Clandestine
by Tawny The Disturbed
Summary: Sequel to Sweat It Out. Alan is pushed away by his brother. Edgar carries a heavy burden. Rated M for violence, bad words and intimate themes...Frogcestual themes... Clandestine- needing to be concealed, usually because it is illegal or unauthorized
1. Fido The American Bully

**Well, you whined, you moaned, you cried...and you got what you wanted! -throws little bat confettis- ^O^ **

**When I submitted the last chapter in Sweat It Out, and you guys were messaging me about making a sequel, I read all 6 chapters and I just said to myself, "I really feel like I'm not done telling this story." So here I will continue! XDD**

**As usual, here is my Disclaimer - I do not own the Lost Boys...if I had, the vampires would have totally dominated and Star would have been eaten by a goldfish or would have been instead a very cute MALE with long crimson hair named Tailo. **

******I hope you all enjoy reading. If you haven't read Sweat It Out, I suggest you go and read that first before starting Clandestine. 'Cause if you don't, this story is gonna make about as much sense as a Lil Wayne rap song. **

******Clandestine: ****needing to be concealed, usually because it is illegal or unauthorized**

******

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Alan pushed open the long doors of the comic shop. He tucked his key into his pocket and stepped in, pushing his bike.

_Hey what do ya know?_

The sunlight lit up the whole place. There were comic books on every shelf. He pushed his bike behind the counter and leaned it in the nook where he and Edgar always settled their bikes. He pushed a few buttons on the register and the drawer dinged open. There was cash in the drawer.

Alan lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips. _Well done, Fido._ Then he pushed the drawer closed again.

He turned and stepped around the TV. He pushed open the door to the backroom. The room stunk of cannabis. The place was full of cardboard boxes which were full of comic books. There was another door on the wall to the right which led to the pathetic bathroom. And there was an old rugged sofa on which two people were draped across.

His mom sat with her arms crossed and her feet propped up on a box. His dad's head lay in her lap and his ankles were crossed on the arm of the sofa. Their sleeping faces were obscured by their wild, unwashed hair and their sunglasses.

Alan took one step forward and something clinked under his foot. He stepped back and looked down. There was an ashtray on the floor with a hunk of cotton candy, popcorn, and half of a hot dog. He cocked an eyebrow and stepped around the ashtray.

Alan leaned down, his dog tags clinking, and slipped the burned out joint from his dad's fingers. He tucked it under one of the couch cushions, knowing it would be found when needed. After all, his mom always said, "Without a trout, go dig in the sofa."

He left the backroom and went through the shop to the back entrance. He unlocked the pad and walked the doors open. He looked around the Boardwalk. The rides were going, the shops and stands were all open, and people crowded the place. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath in through his clear nose. It smelled good. It smelled like the ocean, popcorn, axel grease for the rides, cotton candy, and all kinds of other junk food. He'd missed being outside.

Then Alan frowned. He also missed his brother. Even with all the chatter and the music, it was silent without his loud, rowdy brother. He sighed quietly through his nose and went to the backroom, gathered a box and went back out to restock any empty spaces on shelves.

It had been merely two days since Alan was feeling healthy and Edgar had started realizing that he wasn't. In those two days, he hadn't seen much of his brother. Edgar shut himself in their bedroom and kicked Alan out of it if he stayed for more than two minutes. Edgar said that he didn't want to risk Alan getting sick again. Although, Alan thought it was stupid. Edgar had taken care of him while he was sick. He felt he should be able to do the same for Edgar while he was sick.

Alan knew Edgar would need him soon. He'd been through the feverish illness himself. That was the only thing that allowed Edgar to convince Alan to get back to the comic book shop. He knew that soon, Edgar would hardly be able to stand on his own and he'd soon start having black-out spells.

If that wasn't enough to induce Edgar, Alan decided that he's simply stay around him despite his brother's protests.

Alan glanced over at the counter when he heard shuffling and mumbling.

"Nosferatu. Nosferatu. I wanna watch Nosferatu today. Noseferatu." His mom said as she ducked under the counter. He watched his dad settle down next to the TV, a lit bogey between his lips. Alan could tell the two were already half-baked.

There was a small thump as his mom bumped her head under the counter. "Oh! Aw, damn. The ceiling is falling down again." His mom stood up with a VHS in one hand and her head in the other. She looked up at the ceiling and glared at it. "Stupid thing…always reaching down and…" Alan watched as his mom then tried several times to push the tape into the VCR. "…boppin' me on the head, like Foo-Foo the bunny. Jeez, _stop_ moving."

Alan walked over and set down the box on the counter. He went around behind the counter. He took the tape gently from his mom's long, thin fingers and pushed it into the VCR.

"Yes. Good. I love this movie." She said, staring at the blank TV screen. Alan cocked an eyebrow, reached and flipped on the television set, bringing the movie to the screen. The tape wasn't fully rewound. Alan realized that the film playing wasn't Nosferatu, but the '85 film The Legend of Billie Jean. He looked at his mom who nodded in approval at the TV. "Yep. I love Nosferatu. I _love_ this movie." She settled down beside his dad, took the joint from him and took a long drag.

Alan shook his head.

"Alan, the ceiling hit me in the head again." She said, letting out hazy smoke from her nostrils. Alan nodded, "I saw."

"Don't step on Fido's tail."

Alan shook his head, taking the box back into his grasp. "Don't worry, I won't."

"Good boy." She said, taking another hit. Alan wasn't sure if she was talking to him or the imaginary mutt. Instead of asking, he went back to the shelves.

In the next ten minutes, his mom and dad had sunk into a cannabis-induced comatose, leaving Alan to tend the shop by himself.

The next three hours were long. Alan sold some comic books; kept watchful eyes on suspicious characters, which was everyone who came walking into the store; rewound The Legend of Billie Jean on the television to keep the noise up in the place; and missed the company of his brother.

These were the things he and Edgar would do together. They would work their cover together. They would safely scope out any potential vampires in their hiding place in plain sight. And of course, it wasn't all business. They still had their ways to entertain themselves.

Alan was starting to feel lonesome. This wasn't a feeling that he felt often at all. He hadn't even recognized it at first. Usually he traveled in pair with his brother. Attached at the hip. Inseparable. There couldn't be one without the other. He wasn't used to the shop being void of Edgar's voice. He wasn't used to glancing around and not seeing his brother's mane of light brown hair and his headband.

"Hey, Alan."

Alan jumped, lifting his chin from his palm. He looked up at a smile. It belonged to their spiky-haired fashion victim.

"Hey, Sammy." Alan greeted eagerly, excited for the company.

Sam tucked his chin in a bit, studying Alan's face. "You look a lot better than you did. Last time around when I saw you, you looked dead."

"Oh, that's great, Sammy." Alan said, standing up from his stool behind the counter.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, I talked to Edgar on the phone two days ago. I was worried when he hung up on me. And then I got even more worried when I called the next day and he told me that you passed out in the shower."

Alan shrugged, stepping out from behind the counter, "You shouldn't have been worried. I don't even remember it."

"You don't remember anything?" Sam asked.

Alan shook his head, "Nope." He put his hands back to the counter, and hopped up to sit on it. Sam tucked his hands into his pockets, "Jeez. You musta bashed your head pretty good." Alan shook his head, lifting a hand to his hair, "No. I didn't even have a bump. A bruise or two on my knee and my elbows, but that's it."

Sam shrugged, "I didn't know. I talked to Edgar while you were still sleeping." Then Sam glanced around the store, "Hey, where is Edgar anyways?"

Alan frowned, "He's at home. He caught what I had." Sam raised his eyebrows, "Aww, that's gotta suck." Alan nodded, "Yeah, it is. He won't even let me take care of him. No, he won't even let me stay in the same room with him for more than a minute."

"GETCHUR SLIPPERY THIEVING PUNKASS PRONGS OUTTA MY STORE!"

Alan, Sam, the two girls in the comedy section, the guy in the Superman shelves, and the two boys that had just walked in through the front entrance jumped.

Alan pressed his palm to the counter, glancing back at his mom. Her head was snapped to attention, her sunglasses pointed at the two boys. Alan looked over at the two boys and observed their wide eyes.

"SIC'EM FIDO!"

Alan raised his eyebrows, _Edgar wasn't exaggerating. _

But then he heard something give a deep bark. Alan and Sam looked to the back entrance and saw a brown furry ball shoot across the floor. It barked loudly and monstrously. The two boys yelled out in fear and went running out of the shop. The ball of brown fur barked two more times before turning around.

It was a dog. An actual _dog_.

Sam asked, "Uh…when did you guys get a dog?" Alan shook his head, "We didn't." Alan glanced over his shoulder as his mom got up, and went toward the backroom, "Good Fido. Good Fido. Good boy."

Alan looked at Sam and then back at the dog. It was 20 inches tall with a bulky body. The pointed ears were small and stuck straight up on the top of its head. Its fur was mostly all brown except for the white chest and belly. The round tawny eyes were twinkling and the stub of a tail was wagging. Its collar had spikes on it.

Alan looked back at Sam, "What the hell is it?" Sam cocked an eyebrow and gestured at the dog, "Looks like an American Bully. Our neighbor had one back in Phoenix before my parents split up."

Alan looked at the Bully. Its nails tapped against the floor as it waddled toward the opening between the counters. Alan's mom came out of the backroom with the ashtray that had the half-eaten hotdog, the popcorn and the cotton candy in it. She set it down on the floor behind the counter, mumbling baby talk to the Bully. "That's a good Fido. Good boy." She settled down beside the TV again and seemed to just fade right back away.

Alan leaned back to look over the counter at the Bully eating on the floor. Sam leaned over the counter to look at it as well. They looked at one another.

Sam glanced at Alan's mom, and then whispered, "You know, I think that's the first time I've ever heard your mom talk."

Alan snorted, "She does her fair share of talking. Most of it doesn't make any sense. For example," He pointed strictly over the counter, "_that's_ not our dog."

Sam asked, "Then how come it's here?"

Alan shrugged, "Hell, I don't know. Maybe it wanders around the Boardwalk. It probably comes in here because Mom feeds it junk food." He shook his head, glancing back over the counter at the Bully.

He leaned down and touched the tags hanging from the collar as it ate from the ashtray. He scoffed and sat back up, "Its name isn't even Fido. It's Venus." Sam snorted, "Oh, so Fido's a girl?"

Alan nodded.

Sam broke into laughter.

Alan cocked an eyebrow at Sam, waiting for the boy to stop laughing. He was still chuckling when Alan said, "It's ironic, Sam. It isn't hilarious." Sam sniffed, still smiling, "I can't help it. God, I never had this much entertainment back in Phoenix, even _with_ MTV."

Alan cocked his eyebrow at Sam again, "Oh?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

Alan adjusted himself from where he sat on the counter, "So glad that my life provides so much entertainment for you, Sammy."

Sam nodded, his attention straying to the Superman comics, "Yeah, me too." He trotted over, picked up a comic book and flipped it open. Alan hopped down from the counter and went over to stand beside Edgar. "I sure hope you've been reading that copy of Vampires Everywhere we gave you."

"Nah, haven't had time."

Alan scoffed, "Okay then, don't cry when a bloodsucker comes after you and you didn't do your research." He watched Sam roll his eyes. He knew that Sam was another skeptic. And normally Alan and Edgar wouldn't involve civilians in their vampire business and would prefer them to just stay out of the way. But Sammy was their friend. Alan and Edgar had concluded that their only real friend deserved to know.

_Maybe if Edgar was here to help…_Alan thought. He heaved a sigh and went back over to the counter. He stepped behind it, careful not to step on Venus the Bully who was licking the ashtray clean and sat up on the stool again. He put his elbows on the countertop, folded his hands and rested his chin on his knuckles.

Sam came over with the Superman comic and leaned against the counter. "Jeez, you really are bummed about Edgar, aren't you?" Alan cocked an eyebrow at Sam, "What if it was your brother Mick, or whatever his name was?"

"Mike," Sam corrected. "And sure I guess I'd be a little worried about him; even if he did flip me upside-down and chase me downstairs when I bit his knee the day we first came to Santa Carla."

Alan squinted at Sam. "You _bit_…his knee?" Sam shrugged, "Hey, he flipped me upside-down." He added, chuckling, "It was pretty funny."

Alan looked down at the floor when he heard Venus's nails tapping against the floor. He and Sam watched the Bully waddle out of the shop and back out onto the Boardwalk, large tongue hanging out and little stub of a tail wagging.

Sam looked back at Alan who still stared after Venus, "Looks like Fido is off duty for the night." Alan nodded lightly, "So it does."


	2. Desolation Is Dangerous

**Oh...my...God...I...am...SORRY. -melts into a puddle- **

**I didn't mean for this upload to take SO long! I seriously had it all written down on paper but my computer went all pukey! Anyways, it's all better now and running like a cheetah with a fire lit under its ass. ^_^ Well not that fast...more like a fat guy shuffling after a twinky but you know...-_-**

**I transferred this all onto the computer today on this day that the snow has decided to come and rain down in little fluffy white flakes. I lack slippers and there's no heater under my desk so you, my dear Frog-loving readers, better damn well appreciate this chapter! XD I mean I sat here with freezing toes just for you! No matter how many pairs of socks I put on, my toezies are still coldzies! This was for you! Enjoy! **

**And don't kill me...(You'll get why you could possibly ever want to kill me as you read...)**

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Alan heaved a sigh. Sam looked back down at his comic and flipped a page, his eyes scanning the words and the artwork. Alan rested his chin in his palm, "So what's been going on with you lately? We haven't talked."

Sam looked up at Alan, and shrugged, "Nothing really. Mom works all day. My Grandpa's a weirdo. And apparently Mike's drifted into a 'typical teenaged phase' as my mom calls it."

Alan cocked a questioning eyebrow at Sam.

Sam snorted, "Yeah, he's starting to really act like a weirdo too. He sleeps most of the day and goes out on his bike to hang with who knows who."

Alan cocked his eyebrow again, and lifted his chin from his palm, now interested. "Sounds like vampire habits to me." Sam studied Alan for a moment. The side of his lip crossed his cheek in a disbelieving gesture. He turned sideways and leaned his hip against the counter, "Whatever Alan."

Alan rolled his eyes.

"Mom told me that she went through it when she was his age too. She said I'll go through it to." Sam said. He glanced sideways at Alan, with a smart glint in his eyes. Alan curled his lips inward and shrugged. "Okay then, Sam. You're the expert."

Sam smiled, and turned to lean his elbows against the counter again. He flipped a page in the comic, "Seriously though, I definitely know that Mike's been going out partying and getting smashed. Wasted. And baked like a potato."

Alan lowered his eyebrows, his lips frowning. He mouthed silently, "Baked like a potato…?" He stared across the counter at Sam who had not noticed the gesture.

"A couple days ago or maybe a few…I can't remember, he woke up late and came down in his robe. He looked completely hung over. Then he said something about Chinese food that looked like maggots." Sam said. He glanced up at Alan. "He had salt stuck to his feet."

Alan cocked an eyebrow silently.

Sam smiled and chuckled, "Yep. Obviously he's been mixing in with late-night people on the beach or something."

Alan grimaced, "Surf Nazis?"

Looking down at the comic, Sam said vaguely, "Nah, Mike can't surf worth shit." Alan licked his lower lip and then sat back. Alan decided that Sam's brother probably wasn't in on a vampire cult. From what Sam had told him, it was all too fucked up, even for vampires.

Alan heard the VCR click behind him. He glanced over his shoulder as the TV screen became blue. He realized that the movie had gone completely through again and the credits had finished rolling. He turned around on his stool and leaned down. His dog tags clinked against one another. He reached down a hand to press the rewind button.

He stared at the VCR and listened to the tape rewinding for a few moments. Then he turned back around to face Sam again. He reached up and grasped his dog tags.

Sam looked up at Alan's faraway face. "Where are you, Al?"

Alan looked into Sam's eyes. He cocked a questioning eyebrow at him. Sam rolled his eyes. "As in, what's going through your head? You're starting to look like Louis Lane when she,"

He stopped talking when he saw two pretty girls walked into the shop. The taller one had a fluffy mane of teased brown hair with a white flower pinned into it. The shorter one had blonde hair had equally fluffy hair except there were a few small braids in her hair. Alan's eyes became lazy and he rested his chin on his knuckles, "What were you saying about Louis Lane, Sammy?"

Sam turned his back to Alan, leaning against the counter. He watched the two girls go to the back of the shop, looking with smiling, curious faces. Alan looked at the girls. Sure they were pretty he supposed, but he wasn't in the mood to woo. He rolled his eyes and turned around to hit play on the VCR. "Folks, it seems as if Sam Emerson might actually lose his virginity tonight." He said in a radio-jockey mock voice.

He felt Sam hit him in the back with the comic and he started laughing. He leaned back against the counter until he was lying across it. His head hung over the counter, his messy raven hair falling away from his face, his dog tags clinking next to his ear. He was still laughing. Sam glared down at Alan. That just made Alan's lungs bounce with further laughter.

It felt good to laugh again; to laugh without having a serious cough-attack which made Alan feel like he was hacking up a lung. He knew if Edgar were here then…

Alan's smile faded and he pressed his lips together. He sighed through his nose. With his upside-down vision he saw the two girls come from behind the shelves with a couple of Wonder Woman comics in hand. They tilted their heads at Alan and then erupted in a small fit of girlish giggles.

Alan sat up and spun around on top of the counter, sitting Indian-style. The girls looked at him again, smiled and giggled again. Sam leaned against the counter, trying to look as cool as he thought Alan looked.

But he knew that Alan didn't have to try. He just was with his dark, stony eyes, his black hair and his muscles that were easily seen considering most of his shirts had no sleeves. He had a pair of genuine dog tags. On top of that he wore combat boots.

_You can't beat a guy with combat boots._ Sam thought dejectedly to himself. He glanced at Alan and didn't notice the disinterest in his eyes for he didn't know him well enough. He just saw the usual stoic look cast about his eyes.

The girls went up to the register that sat beside Alan. The brunette smiled cutely, "You work here?" Alan nodded silently.

The blonde smiled as well, "Mind ringing us up?"

Alan glanced at the two comics and then typed up the amount on the cash register for them to see. The brunette retrieved some cash from her pocket and held it out in a way so that Alan's fingers would have to brush against hers.

He took the bills and put them in the drawer of the cash register. Then he pressed the change into the brunette's palm. He watched the girls' eyes twinkle in deep interest as they took in Alan's form.

The blonde asked, "What's your name, huh?" Alan glanced at Sam and then looked back at the blonde. "Alan. That's Sam." Sam lifted a hand curtly in a hasty gesture to get a little of their attention.

The brunette held her hand against her sternum, her painted nails shimmering bright red, "I'm Melissa, and this is," "Amy." The blonde interrupted.

Alan's mom muttered something incoherent from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at her. She was readjusting her position slightly to get more comfortable. She smacked her lips loudly and let out a long sigh, becoming still again.

Sam moved a little closer to Alan's side to try and become part of the girls' interest. The blonde seemed to take notice to Sam and she offered him a smile.

The brunette asked, "When do you get off work? Maybe we could ride some rides, hit the concert?" The blonde looked away from Sam and nodded at Alan with a smile, "Yeah."

Alan pressed his lips in a straight line, "I'm sorry girls. I'm tied up for the night." The two girls frowned and made girly groans of disappointment. "Awwwww…"

"But Sammy here is free." Alan said. He leaned forward slightly, "And he just got his allowance." The brunette and the blonde exchanged looks and then shrugged. Melissa said, "Well, maybe some other night then, Alan. C'mon Amy."

The two girls turned with their comics and _walked_ toward the entrance. Sam watched their hips sway for a second and Alan quickly held up a hand to silence his defeated string of curses. The girls paused and looked over their shoulders. The blonde asked, "Aren't you comin', Sammy?"

Sam's eyes widened and he nodded, "Yeah. I'm comin'!" He started after them, tossing a wide-eyed grin over his shoulder at Alan. Alan nodded a farewell and watched them leave. He knew he could have left if he wanted to. His parents had been taking care of the place for a while so of course he could have gone with them. But he didn't want to. A night on the Boardwalk was nothing without his loud-mouthed, cordial brother.

He ran a hand through his hair and then drew in a long breath. He let it out in a long groan and lowered himself so he was lying across the counter on his back. He bent a knee, settled one hand on his stomach and tucked the other hand behind his head. _Ah, Edgar…_

_

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_

Alan stood up on his bike and pedaled a little faster to make it up the small hill without any trouble. It was dark and the night was lined with streetlights and the moon. The long time he'd spent at the comic shop had been so desolate and lonely that he'd given in about two hours earlier than normal. He couldn't believe how different his life was without his brother around. He had never really been apart from Edgar so he couldn't have possibly known before now.

Alan had to dodge around a guy who was standing on the corner of the sidewalk at the top, smoking a cigarette.

"Watch it, cunt!"

Okay, it was a girl.

Alan kept pedaling, ignoring the raunchy word, "Sorry."

"Yeah you'd better be s-HEY WATCH IT!"

Alan glanced over his shoulder.

"What the hell is this? Bicycle central? YA PUNKASSES!" The tomboy yelled.

Two more people on bikes dodged around the boyishly dressed girl. When they passed under the streetlight, Alan saw their determined eyes trained on him. Alan recognized them. They were the two boys his mom and Fido the American Bully had scared out of the shop earlier that night.

Alan quickly turned forward, his hair blowing across his eyes. He pumped his legs, pedaling furiously.

"Go, man!" He heard one of them shout behind him. He heard them pedaling swiftly after him.

_Shit, shit, shit. _He started chanting in his head. He saved his breath. He was going to need it. The voices of his pursuers hollered and yelled behind him. He didn't know for sure what the two chasing him exactly had in mind, but he knew that he was outnumbered; it was dark; and without the usual company of his brother on the ride back home, he was completely on his own.

He turned his bike quickly around a corner, kicking up dirt and cigarette butts. He kept his eyes forward. He couldn't go home. Only Edgar was there and a house with two boys in it, one of them sick, wasn't very intimidating. He had to lose them somewhere.

Alan veered left, his boot scraping across the ground to help him turn. He pedaled swiftly down the street. He could hear his followers behind him. He could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest and the adrenaline pumping angrily through his veins. He turned sharply left again, this time down an alleyway with a fence across the exit.

He jumped from his bike and he heard it grind against the blacktop. He heard on of the boys behind him, "Get him!" He jumped onto the chain link fence and climbed.

If loosing his chasers meant having to go back for his bike, then that's what he'd do. When he reached the top of the fence, he threw his legs over the side and jumped down to the other side. He bent his knees hard when his boots landed and sprung into a run. He heard them rattling the fence behind him, still yelling.

Alan sprinted down the alleyway and turned the brick corner on the right. His dog tags rattled metallically against his chest. He tore down the next alley. He climbed on top of a dumpster, making the metal boom under his boots, and jumped up. He grabbed a hold of the fire escape ladder. He hurriedly clambered up. He got onto the second landing and dove through the glassless window pane. His hands scraped across the dusty floor and he turned quickly, throwing his back against the wall beside the window. He grabbed his dog tags to still them, halting his breathing.

Engulfed in the shadows he peered outside. He watched the two boys ride into the alley. They'd thrown their bikes over the fence.

"C'mon! I saw him go this way!"

Alan watched as the two pedaled furiously down the alleyway. His dog tags were cutting into his palm. Then they pedaled out the opposite end of the alleyway and out of sight. He heard them pedal away and things became entirely silent.

He let himself pant after holding his breath. He turned away from the window and sunk against the wall. His heart pounded madly, coming down from the adrenaline rush. He licked his dry lips and swallowed, wetting his pipes. He stayed still in the shadows of the abandoned building he'd taken refuge in. His breath was a whisper in the hours of darkness.

Alan closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. He let go of his dog tags, his hand sinking to the floor beside him. He lost himself in the feeling of his body. He listened to his heart beat and he felt it causing the pulse in his neck, his biceps, his wrists, his thighs, his calves and in his ankles. He listened to his lungs expanding in his chest; slowly gathering the musty air with calmer ease. He felt the ache in his muscles that had suddenly been forced into vigorous exercise, almost abused.

His eyes snapped open and he tensed again. Alan's hand went to the stake in his boot. What sounded like a small colony of bats passed overhead in the sky, hidden by the impending darkness.

It was silent again. Distrusting, Alan pulled the stake from his boot and waited in the darkness. He sat there for the longest of times. The alleyway was now lit up by the moon that now sat directly overhead, casting precious light.

Alan took in a deep breath and looked out of the window. The alley was deserted. He was alone. He leaned out the window and looked upward. The only thing up there was the moon that seemed to smile down at him in its waning dominion. He was alone.

Alan climbed carefully from the window and out onto the fire escape, crouching low. He cast his gaze around. He was alone.

He was alone. He was alone. He was alone.

Alan took in a long breath through his nostrils and let it out silently. He closed his eyes and imagined Edgar crouching beside him on the fire escape with a thoroughly sharpened stake in one hand and a holy water gun in the other. He imagined Edgar looking back at him with a reassuring nod, _"Damn, that was a close one."_

One side of Alan's lip upturned despite himself. He opened his eyes and jut out his chest, letting his shoulders back so he could slide the stake into the waistband of his pants. He took a hold of the fire escape ladder and descended.

_"C'mon Bro, let's get the hell outta here." _He imagined Edgar saying from below him.

He let himself down onto the dumpster and jumped down to the ground; going down to a crouch to keep from cracking anything as he remembered Edgar had once learned not to do the hard way.

He walked calmly down the alleyway, his eyes downcast as he chuckled quietly in remembrance.

They'd been out in the brightest time of day, searching some other cavern that Edgar had grown suspicious of. "Another possible bloodsucking nest complete with coffins and creepy crawlers!" Edgar had said.

After leaving the cavern, slightly disappointed that nothing was inside, but still enjoying the thought that they were still badass monster-bashing vampire hunters, Alan hopped down from the ledge. He bent at the knees and then stood back up. He turned to wait for Edgar to hop down, listening to his rant silently as he usually did.

"Man, I was absolutely sure that this damn place was a for-sure lair for the damned! You know if we'd found any coffins in there, I swear to God I was gonna stake me some bloodsucking," Edgar jumped down from the ledge and didn't bend even slightly at the knees. "OW! SON OF A BITCH!"

Alan had cocked an eyebrow as he watched his brother hop and limp and curse as loudly as he possibly could. "SHITSUCKING FUCKER! GODDAMNED BRACHIOEROTISISMIST SUCK MONKEY FROM HELL!"

Alan had been impressed with Edgar's creativity and extensive vocabulary.

Then he went forward and wrapped his arms around Edgar before he plunged to the rocky ground as he had lost his balance from all of his hopping.

Edgar had tilted his head back and looked up at Alan. Alan had simply patted Edgar's collarbone, "You gotta bend at the knees."

Alan bent at the knees on the other side of the chain link fence and then went toward his bike. He leaned down and took a hold of the handlebars, taking it up to its wheels again.

Something crunched. His ears pricked and his eyes jumped up from the ground. He saw the boy coming at him, his red hair flashing in the moonlight. "AHH!" The redhead let out a yell of pain as Alan lifted his bike from the ground and pushed it forward with his boot right into his attacker.

_"Nice move, Alan!"_

The boy fell backwards onto the ground with Alan's bike on top of him. Another one came from the darkness, his pale hair bright in the moonlight. Alan threw back his fist and his knuckles cracked hard against the boy's jawbone.

The blonde staggered back, but returned with a punch. Alan nudged it to the left, narrowly avoiding a strike to the nose.

_"Damn good block!"_

A knee came up and caught him in the stomach.

Alan coughed and pain bloomed where a fist had been applied firmly to his cheek. He hit the ground and threw up his boot, shoving the blonde away from him before he could leap atop of him. He clambered to his feet as the redhead had seemed to have recovered, "You son of a bitch!"

Alan hit him hard right between the eyes, taking the angry kick to the soft side of his stomach. The redhead reeled back and fell onto his backside. The blonde came at Alan again.

Alan lifted his left foot from the ground and kicked the blonde sharply in the ribs with the toe of his boot. He watched the blonde's eyes widen and heard him gasp, and the ribs crack. The blonde was shoved forward unwillingly. Alan took the full force of the blonde's weight and fell back onto ground.

He punched the blonde in the ribs he'd injured and he heard him cry out in pain. He shoved the blonde off of from him, just in time to see a shadow cast over him.

Hands grabbed Alan's collar and dragged him upward. It was a redhead, but not the same one. This one was bigger. There were three now. Alan's back was slammed into the chain link fence. The bigger redhead growled, "You made my little brother's nose bleed."

_Little brother..._

Alan felt the hard fist slam mercilessly into his gut. The air was driven from his lungs as his diaphragm was assaulted. He gasped desperately. The fist smashed into his belly again, driving a gasp and a cough from Alan. He drew the stake from his waistband and stabbed the redhead in the thigh. The big redhead yelled out in agony and dropped Alan onto ground. Alan grabbed at his stomach, gasping and hacking, saliva falling from his parted lips.

_"Get up Alan! Please get up!"_

He heard a sickly sucking sound and then his stake hit the ground with a wooden echo and rolled away.

"You goddamned punk." He heard the big redhead growl. He felt hands slip under his arms and pull them back. One hand grasped his left bicep, and another grasped his right bicep, locking his arms in place. He was dragged upward and his boots left the ground.

"C'mon, Dotson. He's all yours."

Alan lifted his head up and saw the smaller redhead standing in front of him, holding his nose. He let his hand down and Alan saw blood smeared all over his upper lip, and down his chin. "You asshole." The blonde struggled up to his feet, holding a hand against his chest, "My fuckin' God, I think he broke a rib!"

The smaller redhead glanced at the blonde and glared back at Alan, "Oh, you are _so_ dead."


	3. Deja Vu

**Allo, my friends! This chapter is a little shorter than my usual posts...-slumps- and it's not as action packed as the last chapter...-head hits the desk- **

**I know the periods of waiting are starting to burn but I'll keep posting as often as I can! **

**I thought I'd take the time to mention for those who don't know (obviously most of you know), that in the last couple of chapters, the parts where Sam mentions that he bit Mike's knee when he flipped him upside, and where Mike has salt on his feet and talks about a Chinese food that looked like maggots, these are real scenes in the movie...They were just deleted scenes...hehehe.**

**Enjoy eh? Yeh, enjoy!**

* * *

Edgar stirred in his sleep.

_He closed his eyes, feeling the warm fingers brush his hair back from his forehead. They brushed against his headband and slowly pushed it upward off of his forehead. He felt it go through his hair and heard the light noise it made as it was set down. _

_Warm lips softly pressed against his forehead and hair that hung down tickled his temples. He felt the fingertips slide in a feather-like manner down his chest and his abs. He brought in his stomach slightly, shuddering at the touch. _

_Delicately, the fingertips ventured downward and wrapped around him. He gasped and shivered. He heard the metallic clinking of dog tags._

Edgar sleepily opened his eyes. He was intensely warm. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the dream. "Fuck…" He muttered hoarsely, feeling a hard arousal lying against his thigh. He brought his palms to his face, sinking his teeth into his lip. He sniffled, feeling the snot pull at his sinuses. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, tears brimming in his eyes.

Then he became very aware of the arms wrapped around his chest and something hard pressed against his backside.

His eyes widened and his heart jumped in his chest, "JESUS!" He dislodged himself from the warm arms frantically, throwing his elbow back.

He heard Alan grunt and then fall from the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud. The shout had assaulted Edgar's throat and he broke into a coughing fit turning over onto his stomach. He reached with a shaky hand for the glass of orange juice and sipped. He set the glass down roughly, one hand rubbing at his throat. He looked down at Alan.

His brother was sitting on his backside on the floor with his head hanging down and one hand rubbing at his eyes under his hair.

"What the h," He coughed, "Alan?"

"I'm sorry, Edgar. It was a long night." Alan muttered.

"You have,"

Alan covered the crotch of his pants with a hand, "It's _morning_. I'm _sorry_." He lifted his head and looked up at Edgar. Edgar's breath caught in his lungs. His eyes widened and his eyebrows arched.

Alan looked solemnly up at Edgar. Both cheeks and sides of his jaw were immensely colored with black and blue. Redness and blue ringed his eyes, spread over his temples and up past his eyebrows. One eye was swollen, but not shut. There were a couple of splits in his lips and there was a cut right above his right eyebrow. His knuckles were bruised. Dried blood flaked along his eyebrow, down his temple, from his lips down his chin and across his knuckles.

Alan somberly searched his brother's wide eyes. "Is it that bad?"

Edgar put his feet on the floor and knelt down in front of Alan. "_Christ_, Alan. What the hell happened to you?" He murmured quietly, concern braided into his tone. Alan studied Edgar's face and asked, "Why are you crying? What's the matter?" Edgar quickly reached up to his face and wiped away the tear tendrils that he'd left on his cheeks.

"Forget that! What happened to you?" Edgar exclaimed.

Alan answered, "I got mugged last night."

"Jesus." He said, looking closely at the bruises. Edgar reached toward Alan's face, as if to cup it, but he hesitated. He lowered his hands and clenched them into tense fists on his thighs, "How many were there?"

Alan said as Edgar looked at the gash above his eye, "Two at first. If it had just been the two of them I coulda taken them." He cast his glance down, "That was until big brother came along…"

Edgar shook his head, "God, hang on a minute, I'll go get a washcloth." He started to get up. Alan took a hold of his wrists, "You're the one who's sick. Just get back in bed; I can take care of myself. You need to rest."

Edgar yanked his wrists from his brother's grip harshly, and started up to his feet. "Alan, just let me help," He hardly took one step before he was lurching. Alan threw himself in the way, throwing his arms around his brother and cushioning Edgar's fall with his own body.

Edgar's head lay against Alan's chest. Alan bit down on the inside of his mouth, trying to keep from crying out. Instead he let a pained groan rumble in his throat. He took in a deep breath and looked down at his brother. Edgar's arm was stuck between their bodies, pressing hard into the bruises Alan knew decorated his abs and his ribs.

He brushed Edgar's hair back from his closed eyes. He sighed quietly through his nose. He gritted his teeth and sat up, hissing softly in pain. "Uhh…" came a small sound from his brother. Alan grasped his brother tightly to his chest and started to stand. "Easy, Edgar." He whispered. He reached down and gathered his brother into his arms.

Alan pressed a knee onto the bed and laid Edgar down onto the cruddy mattress. Edgar let out a small huff of breath and his eyes fluttered open. "What?" Alan pulled the blankets up to Edgar's chest. "Shhh." He softly invoiced.

He looked at the Tylenol and the Benadryl on the bedside table, "When was the last time you took any pills?"

"Last night." Edgar hoarsely murmured. Alan nodded, picking up the Tylenol and the Benadryl. He flicked a couple of the colored pills into his palm. He pressed open Edgar's mouth and dropped the pills onto his tongue. He picked up the orange juice and propped up Edgar's head, "This'll help you sleep, Bro." He watched Edgar close his reddened eyes and swallow down the orange juice. He laid Edgar's head back down onto the pillow and set the orange juice down.

Edgar looked up at Alan.

Alan paused, watching as his brother searched his eyes and studied face. Edgar murmured, "I'm sorry…"

Alan frowned and shook his head.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there…"

Alan shook his head again, "It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry I,"

"Be quiet, Edgar."

Edgar fell silent, his weary eyes still staring up at his brother. But then he averted his gaze. Alan pressed his lips into a line and reached to brush back his brother's hair in a calming, endearing gesture. Edgar turned his head the other way slowly, avoiding his brother's touch. "You should go wash up." he murmured.

Alan frowned. After a moment of silence, he turned around and left the bedroom. He pulled the door closed behind him. He leaned his head back against the doorframe. He drew in a careful, deep breath. Then he walked stiffly down the hall to the bathroom, taking the hem of his sleeveless shirt into his grip. He slowly started pulling the cloth up, wincing and closing his eyes as the aching muscles stretched and contracted. He pushed the bathroom door open with the toe of his boot.

He gingerly pulled his shirt off over his head and dropped it onto the floor. He flicked on the light and looked into the mirror. He grimaced at his own reflection.

He placed his hands on either side of the sink, looking at the effects of the furious beat down he'd been given the previous night.

_Well…they were thorough…_Alan retorted to himself.

He looked at the abuse marks that littered the skin on his chest and his abdomen. The darkest of them was in the middle of his stomach where he remembered the big redhead had driven his hard fist. He lightly touched the blackened section of his abs with his fingertips.

He took in a cautious breath, afraid to expand his aching chest in any way. He reached to the faucet and turned on the hot water. It took a minute for the water to run warm. He cupped his hands under the stream. He leaned down slightly and splashed it onto his face.

He watched the water drip from his face and into the sink, the droplets were stained rustic red. Then he reached and turned off the water.

_Might as well take a shower…_ Alan went to the shower and drew back the curtain. _The stench of blood and sweat just don't mix pleasantly…_ He paused. _Sweat…_

That nagging feeling scuttled through his skull and around his aching chest. It was that feeling that one had seen something, been someplace, done something or heard something before. That intensely puzzling feeling called déjà vu.

Alan was the quieter of the Frog brothers, so he spent a lot of time inside of his head when his brother wasn't speaking or ranting. When Edgar would have dismissed the tugging feeling and would have forgotten about it, Alan looked further into it. He strived to remind himself. To recall. To remember what was so familiar. He would reflect. He would look at things analytically to bring back what he forgot.

Alan started repeating the word in his head.

_Sweat…sweat…sweat…What the hell does anything have to do with sweat? Sweat…sweat…_

He threw down the lid on the toilet and started unlacing his boots. _Sweat…God what the hell is that supposed to mean?_

He curved the side of his lip and lowered his eyebrows, a puzzlement twisting about his features. He stared at the floor of the bathroom while he pulled his feet from his boots. He felt a small uprising in his mind. He was on the right track. _Sweat. The bathroom…sweat on the floor? _He heaved a sigh and reached up, rubbing gingerly at his eyes. "For God's sake, this is gonna drive me nuts." He muttered.


	4. Shame and Three Wooden Stakes

**Oh dear god...I...****am...SO...SORRY! -dives under the couch- **

**Seriously, I really am. I hadn't meant for there to be such a gap. This last month has been CRAZY with schoolwork, a couple of exams, and then on top of that I was trying to scrape up cash for Christmas and then had to go shopping in my extra time to get gifts! I did most of it on the eve of Christmas Eve! **

**But still, I figured I should write a chapter or two to give to you guys cuz it's Christmas. Again I'm sorry. I'm also sorry this chapter is so short...**

**I hope you guys all got what you wanted from Santa. I did! ^w^**

**-strikes a G chord on my new black electric guitar that I named Edgar, that is hooked up to my new spider amp that I named Alan- **

* * *

Edgar rolled onto his side and pressed himself as close to the bedroom wall as he could. He shut his eyes tightly. He sunk his teeth into his lip to quiet the threatening sob. He dug his fingertips into the wall and then fisted his hair, anything to keep from reaching down to touch the arousal that was conjured for a so morally wrong reason.

It ached, whining for attention.

He laid there, begging the meds that his brother had given him to kick in and put him to sleep.

Edgar felt a tear roll from the edge of his eye and down to wet his earlobe. He couldn't believe how his body was acting. He couldn't believe how he was feeling. He was ashamed at what he felt. Rather, he was ashamed that he didn't feel ashamed. There was definitely a piece of him tugging; telling him that what he had dreamed and how he reacted to Alan's caring touch was wrong.

But then there was that…feeling. That sinful feeling.

He covered his mouth firmly with his palms to muffle the sudden wave of cries and sobs. He pressed his forehead against the cool wall. Tears rained from his eyes. He reminded himself of the promise he'd made to himself.

_Never let it change things…Never let it change things…Never tell him…It would be…_

Edgar sucked in a desperate breath and coughed hard. He rolled over and spit into the bucket on the floor beside his bed. For a moment he hung his head over the side of the bed. His ears pricked when he heard the shower turn on. The muffled, distant sound of the water hitting the floor of the shower sparked his remembrance.

He quickly rolled back over, shoving his body against the wall. He tried so hard to shut it out. He tried. But an unwanted thought always manages to snake its way into one's mind. It came violently into his head.

The feel of his _brother's_ hand around his arousal.

The feel of his _brother's_ skin grinding against his.

The feel of his _brother's_…

Edgar curled his lips inward, and placed a hand over his mouth as the other hand slipped slowly downward. Shame encircled his mind as he cupped himself. He shut his eyes, forcing another tear to trail down the tendrils that ran down the side of his face.

* * *

Alan tilted his head back, letting the hot water wash the suds from his hair. He reached up and ran his fingers through his soaked dark locks, pushing the lather out of it. He furrowed his eyebrows.

_Something about the bathroom…Sweat…C'mon what the hell? _

He glanced around the shower, studying the walls, and the shower curtain and the suds circling the drain. _Shower?_

Most of the time looking at things helped Alan remember things he'd forgotten. Looking at things that reminded him of the forgotten. Usually it was a long battle but Alan would eventually come out the victor. This time, Alan was having an extremely hard time, no matter what random word or thought he brought into his head, he couldn't remember.

He shook his head, "Ah hell." _Maybe it was from a dream…_

Alan frowned, and turned off the water. _Well…good luck ever figuring _that_ out then! _He bid himself. Dreams rarely made sense to Alan.

He tossed back the shower curtain and stepped from the tub, immediately draping his towel over his head. He ruffled his hair. He twisted it in one of his ears to get the water out and dried himself off. He glanced around the bathroom. The mirror was covered in a layer of mist. _Steam…and…back to sweat. _He picked up his dog tags from the counter and looped them around his neck.

Alan wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door, letting out all of the steam. He paused and looked over his shoulder into the bathroom. He leaned down and picked up his boots. He cast another look around the bathroom before turning off the light.

He walked down the hallway and into the living room. He heard the door knock lightly against the doorframe as it slid almost shut like it always did. Alan dropped his boots on the floor beside the coffee table and brushed a wet lock of hair from his eye.

Then it dawned on him.

_Ohhh…_

He shrugged in a bit of relief, finally realizing what he was remembering, and he felt a sense of triumph at conquering the enigma that was his mind and memory.

He was just remembering what happened when he passed out in the shower. Alan filled in the missing gaps with what his brother had told him. Alan was taking a shower; took a fall out of said shower; hit the floor loudly; then came running Edgar to the rescue; dried him off; dressed him; then dragged him to bed.

He was roughly satisfied, knowing he had at least an idea of what had happened. A craggy idea, but an idea nevertheless. But he rested assured that the gaps would become clearer as he continued to remember throughout the span of time he would spend thinking about it.

* * *

Edgar's eyelids drooped heavily downward. His tight fist slackened around the tissues he'd used to clean himself up. He leaned his warm forehead against the cool wall and closed his eyes. The drowsiness from the pills, and the effort he'd put into taking care of his arousal pushed him toward unconsciousness. He was too tired to feel shame for the reason he'd had an erection in the first place. Edgar appreciated the numbness of feeling.

His lungs expanded more slowly and calmly as he started to fall asleep.

The bedroom door opened.

Alan stepped quietly inside, wrapped in his towel.

He went to the dresser and pulled out a drawer. He scowled at his last clean pair of boxers. _Gonna have to hit the Laundromat._

Alan tossed his towel onto the floor and slipped into his last pair of boxers. He looked over his shoulder when he heard a rough sniffle. He looked at his brother.

Edgar was vaguely aware as he felt the space on the mattress behind him dip downward slightly as his brother set a knee onto it. He heard the clinking of his dog tags. Edgar was hardly awake, but hardly asleep; caught in a lucid dream. In his head he was seeing his mom yell "SIC'EM FIDO!" and then he saw Alan running across the comic shop barking like a real dog.

Stuck in the phase between consciousness and unconsciousness, Edgar felt the real Alan hovering over him. He felt his warm presence and could smell the soap from his shower. Edgar felt Alan take his wrist into his grasp.

He muttered, his lips hardly able to move, "No…"

"Easy, Bro. Just go to sleep." He heard Alan replied huskily, still seeing the non-talking but barking Alan in his lucid dream. Edgar felt Alan take the bundle of tissues from his hand. And then the touch was gone. The warmth from his brother simply disappeared as Edgar finally fell entirely asleep.

Alan slid back off of the bed, dropping the tissues he'd taken from his brother into the garbage bag. Then he pulled the blanket up to Edgar's neck, taking care to cover as much of his brother as he could, for he remembered the coldness of whatever the hell the sickness had been when he'd had it.

He sighed quietly through his nose, looking down at the back of his brother. Then he cast a glance around the room at the dirty laundry littering the floor, among other things. He heaved a sigh and left the room to go into the bathroom where he pulled on the pants he'd left on the floor. He picked up the shirt he'd worn and pulled it over his head and dragged down the hem to his waist. Then he went looking for the usual old flour sacks that he and his brother would usually use to haul dirty laundry. He shuffled through the mess in the living room and started going through the cupboard in the living room.

_Where the hell did we toss those damn…?_

Every article of clothing he and his brother had to be worn about three times before it was deemed dirty. His parents…well, their appearance could speak for themselves. The smell of cannabis usually overpowered the odor of their lack of showers or baths or anything remote to positive hygiene. Sure maybe they washed their hands after going to the bathroom, but Alan didn't keep track of that.

Due to their tight money situation, Alan and Edgar didn't visit the Laundromat any more than they had to.

Alan paused and closed his eyes. _Money._ He let out a long sigh upward, his bangs lifting with his breath. After his thorough beating and mugging the night before, he'd have to go back to the comic shop to get some more. Sure he was lucky that he hadn't taken more than he had from the cash register. He'd only been carrying about seventeen dollars and a few coins.

Thinking that, Alan leaned back against the kitchen counter. Those guys from the night before knew him now. They knew he hung around the comic shop and had probably already worked out that he worked there. He hung his head back with an aggravated groan up at the ceiling. That probably meant that he could become a regular for them.

He let out a sigh and thought of the wooden stake he'd stabbed the big one in the thigh with. He'd never used a wooden stake on a human before. Well…Hell he'd never used one on a vampire either but still…The wooden stake had proven effective for a fleeting moment.

Alan went into the living room and pulled on his boots, and laced them up, slipped a stake into each one, and then another one in his waistband.

When he stood he rolled his eyes. _Sure, you can find a wooden stake around here with ease…can never find anything else! _He gave a water gun at his feet a fervent kick before heading out the front door, locking it behind him.


	5. Familiarity

**I know this chapter is short as piss...but it's how it needed to be written. Haha, I will not apologize! **

**But yeah...I'm sorry...it really is how I wanted it to be though! Besides, I gave you guys two chapters within two days! Haha, that's remarkable! **

**I hope I'm keeping you on the edge of your stool! Or computer chair...whatever the hell you sit in while surfing the interweb...**

**I promise I'll get writing on the next chapter and post it as soon as...ASAP!**

* * *

Alan pedaled his bike with vigor, intent on getting to the comic shop and then getting out of there. He had a lot of laundry to haul, and he was going to do it by himself. He was kind of pissed; pissed at the three guys he'd had the bout with in the alley which ended with him bleeding, darkly bruised and all around penniless; pissed at himself for not being able to fight them off; pissed that they took the money from his pockets.

Alan spit at the ground as he rode through the Boardwalk, weaving between people who were buzzing about the place. He remembered how the big hands had finally released him, dropping him to the ground while he was nearly unconscious from the pain. He remembered the trespassing hands that searched his pockets. He hated the feel of it. He hated the vulnerability of the situation he'd been thrown into. He hated it even more that he'd watched them take off on their bikes with vision blurred by his blood, whooping in triumph.

He let out a long angry breath, making his bangs fly upward.

He turned his bike sharply to go around a group of girls who were standing idly in the middle of the path, babbling girlishly at the big fluffy prizes they'd won in some game or another. His shoulder bumped into one of them.

"Ow! Hey, watch it!" He heard one call.

He ignored her. Usually he'd have had the courtesy to at least look back and mutter an apology, but he was just not in the mood for it. He was just a bit too inside his head at the moment. Also he was a bit busy gritting his teeth because when the girl had turned in surprise, she had given Alan an elbow right in the middle of a bruise on the left side of his face.

He stopped his bike in front of the shop and got off of it. He stuck the key in the lock and pushed the door open far enough for him and his bike to fit through. He walked his bike in and closed the door behind him and leaned his bike against it.

He strode through the emptiness of the shop. He went straight to the cash register and opened the drawer. As he was withdrawing coins and few one dollar bills he paused, his ears pricking. There was a bit of a 'rumpus' going on in the backroom.

Then he rolled his eyes with a shake of his head, shoving the drawer closed. _A bit early in the day for them to be awake. _He retorted quietly to himself, striding from behind the counter, stuffing the money into his pocket. He grabbed his bike and opened the door. He locked it behind him and mounted his bike again.

Alan did his best to ignore the looks he got from a few kids hanging around a food stand next to the entrance of the shop, waiting for their order of junk food. He felt like an animal at the zoo, pacing his cage, looking at all the people pressing their faces in on him. He wasn't a part of their lives. They weren't a part of his. To them, he was just something to look at and vice versa.

He pedaled through the crowds. He felt that Edgar-shaped hole in his life as he did. Usually he had Edgar to talk with on a ride through the Boardwalk. Usually he had Edgar to focus on. Right then, he had nothing to focus on. Absolutely nothing despite the excitement of the people, and the smell of food that made his stomach let out agitated and hungry moans.

Well, he still felt it.

He held a hand to his stomach with a grimace, steering his bike out of the entrance of the Boardwalk.

Alan passed the usual crowds hanging all around town. When he passed a group of girls clad in bikinis, he imagined Edgar riding beside him. He imagined his brother simpering and then saying something crude and very boyish. He smirked despite himself.

* * *

Edgar stirred awake. His forehead was pressed against the wall, made warm from his body heat. He heard shuffling behind him.

He turned his head, squinting tiredly, and looked over his shoulder.

Alan was there with one of the old flour sacks that they used for dragging laundry to the Laundromat. He watched his brother pick up clothes from the floor and stuff them into the sack.

Edgar rolled over slowly, reaching for a tissue.

Alan paused as he noticed his brother was awake. He watched him blowing his nose for a moment, frowning in remembrance at the sound of the mucus fighting to stay in his airways. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up." Alan said, going back to gathering the dirty clothes.

Edgar shook his head with a cough. He started to say, "You didn't." but that one cough started a whole string of coughs. Alan paused, looking to his brother in worry. Edgar let out a sizable loogy into the bucket and wiped at his mouth.

"You okay?" Alan asked.

Edgar nodded wearily, lying back against his pillow. He closed his eyes, drawing in a careful breath, trying to avoid agitating his throat. He murmured, "You didn't wake me up."

Alan went to stand beside the bed. He looked at his brother's red eyelids and watched as he breathed through his parted lips. Edgar felt his brother's gaze upon him and opened his eyes. Alan was frowning down at him. They stared at one another for a few brief moments.

Then Alan went over to the side table and picked up the jar of vapor rub. He sat heavily down on the bed, popping the lid from the jar, "Pull off your shirt."

Edgar hesitated. When Alan met his gaze, he saw the softness in Alan's eyes. The need. Edgar knew it was probably the need to help him, but he couldn't help but think of the hazy need he'd seen in Alan's eyes during their ordeal in the steamy bathroom.

Alan let out a sigh and grabbed the blanket and drew it downward. "I know you're cold, but you'll sleep better if you can breathe." His fingers took hold of the hem of Edgar's shirt. Edgar grabbed Alan's hands, "I can do it."

Alan withdrew his hands gently from Edgar's grasp. He waited patiently as Edgar pulled up his shirt and removed it from his body. Alan dipped two fingers into the jar and smeared it across Edgar's exposed chest without a single word. He watched the shock from the sudden chill send a shiver through his brother's chest.

"It's cold." Alan said quietly, taking more from the jar.

Edgar cocked an eyebrow, "Thanks for your considerate warning, jackass." Alan smiled lightly, not meeting Edgar's gaze as he gently and slowly spread the rub across Edgar's upper chest; trying carefully not to shock Edgar further with the coldness of the vapor rub.

Edgar let out a sigh, and laid his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes. _God…just can't _wait_ to smell this stuff. _He thought sarcastically. _Jesus… _Edgar could feel the contrast of the coldness of the stupid vapor rub and the warmth of his brother's fingers as the layer he was spreading became thinner. He felt the warmth of Alan's hand travel slowly down his chest to still against his stomach. At first he had no thoughts whatsoever besides the question of why Alan had stopped. But then he opened his eyes and looked at his brother.

Alan was still, staring questioningly down at his hand that lay softly against Edgar's abs. It felt familiar to him. The feel of the skin of his brother's chest. The way his hand had moved down it. But he wondered why it felt so familiar to him. He didn't remember a time he'd ever touched his brother this way. But he felt that it was definitely not the first time he'd done it.

"Alan." A hand wrapped around Alan's wrist.

Alan's gaze jumped up to his brother's. He saw how his brother's eyes were cloudy and he looked a little scared. _Scared of what? _Alan wondered silently to himself as he searched deeper into Edgar's eyes.

He lifted his hand off of Edgar's stomach, pulling himself free of Edgar's grip. He stood up from the bed, staring down into his brother's eyes.

The touch had been a bit past brotherly tenderness he thought. But he figured Edgar would have reacted differently. He might have reacted in this way, "I don't think my stomach needs any vapor rub, Bro." Or perhaps, "I didn't ask for a full-body massage there, bonehead."

Whatever was going on, Alan knew it wasn't the first time. But he couldn't remember the first time. Why and when the hell had he run his palm leisurely down the front of his brother's torso? He figured he'd remember that.

Then he discovered that the familiarity was in fact that prickling, nagging feeling he knew well. Déjà vu.

Alan broke the stare between him and his brother who lay stock-still on his bed. He turned around and roughly picked up the flour sack. He left the bedroom without a single word.

Edgar heard his brother's boots move through the house. He heard the door open. He heard it shut. And he heard the lock click. He stared, eyebrows slightly arching, worry starting to plague him. _Christ…Christ…_Christ_…_ He yanked the pillow out from beneath his head and covered his face with it, effectively sinking his teeth into it to keep from yelling out.


	6. Laundromat

**Well I just spent Wednesday through Friday sleeping...Why you say? I caught the Strep. -_-**

**Haha, I find it ironic that I'm sick and this whole fanfiction started with sickness back in Sweat It Out. Hehe, I was sick when I wrote the first chapter for that as well! Little fun fact...**

**I was a little disappointed that some of my usual reviewers for this story didn't review the last few chapters... -sniffle- DON'T YOU GUYS LOVE ME ANYMORE?**

**Well, you should start loving me again. ^w^ **

**Enjoy this chapter, it's actually more than a 1000 words..tch..**

**And don't criticize the Brooklyn accent too badly haha. I BEEN TO BROOKLYN, THAT'S HOW THEY TAWK! I GAWT MUH CUZZIN VINNEY DOWN THEYUH! XDDD**

* * *

Alan shoved open the door to the Laundromat and walked his bike in. He shot a glare at the greasy haired crackhead that sat up from a bench, looking to start bugging Alan for favors. Just that one glare sent the unwashed crackhead skittering out of the Laundromat.

He leaned his bike up against the washing machines and dropped the flour sack on the dirty floor. His heart was still pounding wildly against his chest. He'd pedaled his bike as fast as he could, and even took the long way around to get to the Laundromat. He had to work off whatever the hell he was feeling. He had needed some sort of outlet.

And it hadn't worked.

Alan reached up and ran his fingers harshly through his hair, breathing loudly out through his nose. He turned and kicked one of the busted up washing machines behind him that had a sign taped on it that had once read 'Out of Order'. That sign had been there for so long, it had pieces torn off of it, mucus smeared on it, stupid little notes on it and the last of the letters spelled out 't of O'. But once Alan kicked it, the broken down piece of junk just jumped to life and started spinning as if it suddenly had something to live for.

He ignored the looks he got from the few people that were in the Laundromat. And then Alan bit down hard on his lower lip, crouching down to the floor, holding his head in his hands.

That déjà vu hadn't gone away. It ran around inside Alan's head, willing him to remember. Alan wasn't sure if he wanted to remember.

He dragged his palms down his face, and winced as they pressed roughly against the bruises on his face. Then he stood up again. He grabbed the flour sack and yanked open one of the washing machine doors. He dumped the contents of the sack into the machine and pushed the door closed. Then he pressed his forehead against the cold metal.

"Ey, somethin' wrong huh? If ya needa couple'uh quatahs,"

Alan squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of the Brooklyn accent. "I don't need any of your goddamned," He paused when he saw her face.

Her brown hair wasn't as fluffy as it had been the last time he saw her and she was wearing a black leather jacket over her t-shirt and jeans. Her dark eyes widened by the slightest when she saw his face as well. He knew it was because of his bruised up face, as well as her recognition of him.

"_Damn_…" She said at first, studying his face. "Your name was Alan, right?" She asked, her Brooklyn accent toning down, as if she were trying to suppress it.

Alan nodded lightly, "Yeah…I…uh…sorry that I uh,"

She shook her head, tucking her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, "Nah," She reached up and brushed back some of her hair that had brushed onto her forehead. "Fehget it." She then rolled her eyes with a sigh.

Alan tilted his head slightly, "What was your name again?"

"Melissa." She answered.

Alan nodded lightly, remembering now, "Oh yeah. You know, I don't think I really noticed the accent…last night." Last night had felt like eons ago to him.

He watched her bite her lip. Then she sighed, and leaned her back against a washing machine. "Yeh…I been tryin' ta get rid of it. I moved heeyuh a couple'uh weeks ago. My accent isn't considuhd the most…_attractive _thing around heeyuh."

He nodded slightly, trying hard to look like he understood. He wanted to keep talking to her. Anything to distract him from whatever the hell had been awakened inside his brain when he'd _caressed_ his broth… _Don't even think about it…_ He commanded himself.

Melissa looked at the washing machine in which Alan had tossed the laundry into. She tapped her knuckles back against the glass of the machine's door. "So, do ya need a couple'uh quatahs, Alan?"

Alan shook his head and said gently, "No. Thanks though." He turned to the machine and started pressing coins into it. He saw Melissa shift her weight to her other foot out of the corner of his eye.

"I dun wanna be too frank witchu, but, wha happened to ya face?" She asked nervously. "I mean, I seen my shayuh of shinuhs back in Brooklyn, but ya look like ya neyuh gawt killed."

Alan looked at her and she was tilting her head up at him, studying the shades of red, blue, purple and black on his face. Alan chuckled quietly, "You think that's bad." He took the hem of his shirt into his grasp and lifted it up to show her the entirely black area in the middle of his abs.

Her eyebrows went up and her red lipsticked mouth gaped as she looked at his torso. "My gawd." She muttered.

She looked up into Alan's eyes, "Wha mess didja get inta last night?" Alan shrugged, smiling slightly as he lowered his shirt back down, "Long, boring story."

Melissa nodded, casting her gaze downward, apparently getting the fact that Alan did not exactly want to talk about it. She sighed quietly through her nose and then looked back up into Alan's eyes. "Didja eat lunch yet?" She asked.

At the thought of food, the walls of Alan's empty stomach pressed hungrily against each other, making a loud groan sound from his bruised abdomen. Melissa glanced down at his stomach as Alan self-consciously pressed a hand to it. She smiled gently up at him. "How 'bout this? I run out an' get us somethin' ta eat while you stand guard heyuh an' make showuh no chooch swipes ya clothes, or my clothes. Whatcha say?"

Alan cocked an eyebrow down at her. She scoffed, "Yeh, I been 'round Santa Cawla lawng enough ta know that ya shouldn't leave anything ya own _unattended_." Alan chuckled. Melissa smiled, "So, whaddyasay?"

"Huh?" Alan asked.

She scoffed, "Jus stay heyuh, okay? I'll be back in," She pushed up the sleeve of her leather jacket, "ten minutes tops." She turned and started toward the door. She yanked open the door and walked in front of a couple of Hispanic men who were loitering outside, smoking what smelled like some shitty cannabis. One whistled at her, and another actually tried to pat her behind.

She simply dodged and pointed a firm, red fingernail at them, "Ey, _no me toques maldito, putos_." Then she kept walking. Alan chuckled. She seemed like an entirely different girl compared to the one he had met the night before. The Melissa he had first met was a very girly, typical Californian girl. The Melissa he had just met in a raunchy, broken down Laundromat was a tough as nails Brooklyn babe who underneath the leather jacket seemed to have pity for dirt like him.

He chuckled again. She was living a double life. Just like he and Edgar were…

Alan frowned. An image of his hand running down the naked skin of his brother's chest flashed in his head. It was from a different angle and the familiarity scratched roughly at his brain.

Alan leaned back against his washing machine and closed his eyes. He opened them again when he heard the Laundromat door open. A lady with messy red hair came in with a small pile of papers tucked against her chest. She looked like she'd been crying. She went up to the corkboard that hung near the front window.

_More missing people posters…_Alan thought to himself.

Sure enough, the lady posted up a paper to join the rest of the lost faces that decorated the entire board. Alan heard her sniffle and then she turned away and left the Laundromat. Alan watched her go through the window and then looked to the missing poster that she'd posted up.

This was the second time in one day he was seeing faces that he'd first seen the previous night. On the poster were two pictures. They were the redheaded brothers that he'd encountered last night. He never figured that the big brother could smile, but the black and white photograph proved he could. Alan touched the bruise on his stomach in remembrance of the particularly large and hard fist his tall attacker had had.

Now they were missing. And Santa Carla faithfully being the infamous murder capital of the world, they were most likely dead. There was a small chance that they had probably just run away, but Alan doubted it.

He wasn't exactly sure how to feel about his attackers presumed deaths. He imagined that they had fallen victim to the supernatural beasts from Hell that he and his brother dared to…

Alan leaned his head back against his washing machine and slid down it to sit on the dirty floor. He drew his knees up slightly, stirring a few cigarette butts on the floor. He rested his wrists upon his kneecaps with a quiet sigh through his nostrils.

Behind his eyelids, his hand traveled down to his brother's pelvis where his fingertips started to snake their way underneath,

"Ey, Al, ya okay?"

Alan jumped and looked up at the returned Melissa. She had a couple of thin wrapped hotdogs in her red nailed grasp. She looked concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Alan answered.

Melissa nodded, "Okay, get awf the flowuh then." Then she rolled her eyes to look up at the ceiling. She spoke slowly this time, and her accent was being repressed. "My Gawd…I am nevah..._never_…gonna loose this damn accent." Alan got to his feet, "Why do you want to loose it so bad?"

Melissa cocked an eyebrow at him, "I told ya," she pushed one of the hotdogs to Alan's chest and took a large bite out of the other one. She spoke through it, "P'pl dun think," she swallowed, "it's attractive."

Alan muttered under his breath, "Okay then." _Civilians…females…_

Melissa smirked at him and looked to the back of the Laundromat. "My load's done." She went over to a machine in the back and started swiping clothes into a pillowcase. She looked over at Alan as she did, "Ey, you workin' at the comic shop tonight?"

Alan merely shrugged, leaning his forearm on his washing machine.

She smiled again. "Alright then. How about I meet you at the shop in about two hours and we'll hang out on the Boardwalk till after dark? Huh?" Alan was impressed at how quick she had shoved her Brooklyn accent into a cage in the back of her throat.

"Is your blonde friend going to be joining us?" Alan asked, even though he wasn't interested in the answer.

Melissa looked at him as she tied the pillowcase shut, "Amy? Naw. I think she's goin' someplace to screw around with her new boyfriend." She looked back down at her pillowcase.

Alan lowered an eyebrow. "New boyfriend?" _Sammy actually got the chick? And in one night? I'm impressed…I'll have to let him have a peek at that new Superman comic that we,_

Melissa nodded, "Yeah. She met him last night at one of the dart stands. She hit him in the back with a dart."

Alan merely stared at her, but not for the reason she thought. _Oh…poor Sammy…the guy must be locked up at his Grandpa's place mourning…_

Melissa laughed, "I'm not kidding. She fussed over him and they just hit it off. His name was uh…" Her eyes became absent, "Aw hell, what _was_ his name?" She scratched at her jaw with a red fingernail. "_Oh_ yeah, his name was _Marko_. He was pretty cute. He had one helluva hairdo though. I'll tell you right now, I did _not_ see a lot of guys like that back in Brooklyn." She scoffed.

She came over to stand in front of Alan with her pillowcase. She asked, "So what about you and me hangin' around the Boardwalk tonight? You game?"

Alan shrugged.

She smiled, "C'mon, Black Eye."

Alan shrugged again, "Alright."

She chuckled, "You know what I noticed?"

"What?"

"You always look like you know something nobody else does."

Alan cocked an eyebrow at her. The girl had known him for one night, seen him and talked to him in time added up to be less than an hour, and she was daring to _read_ him?

She laughed, "You also look bored. I'm thinkin' you deserve a good night of fun."

"Whatever you say."

She nodded, cocking an amused eyebrow at him, "Yeah. See you in two hours then, Al." Then she shocked Alan by placing a soft kiss on his lips. She smirked up at him, looking into either of his eyes and then went toward the door.

Alan turned and watched her leave. She went past the window and was out of sight. Then he reached up and gently wiped the red lipstick stain from his bruised lips.


	7. Confrontation

**I must admit something. I do not bode well with guilt, and I can't sleep knowing that I've been lazy when it comes to submitting this chapter! But I decided to get my lazy bum in gear and finish the chapter, no matter how short I wanted it to be. **

**But seriously, I had a 5 day vacation which was the weekend plus MLK day plus two snow days. I had school yesterday but had no school today because of the event of yet another snow day! Psh! I'm so mad cuz I have a Trigonometry midterm, a reaction essay due in Sign Language, and a project due in US History! Bleh!**

**I must admit that laziness and business with school aren't the only reasons why I haven't updated...I've been working on another fan fiction! T_T And it's not even a Lost Boys one...it's a...Sky High fan fiction... -hides under desk, hugging my knees-**

**Well I guess I won't bore you any longer with my problems...onward with the Clandestine-iness!**

* * *

Edgar rolled over in his bed onto his side and punched his pillow, adjusting it under his head. For a long time he'd been trying to fall asleep. For a long time, Alan had been gone.

He knew that there had been a shimmer of remembrance in those dark, confused eyes that belonged to his brother. That had scared him. He thought of how he'd felt Alan's hand softly gliding down his skin, and he had wondered why his brother had stopped. He had not wanted him to stop. That scared him.

Edgar knew that his brother was very good at remembering things, and very rarely forgot anything. He knew that his brother was often locked inside of his head, spending most of his time immersed in his own thoughts. He could easily recognize that look in his brother's eyes. He had seen that look in Alan's eyes as he had stared down at his hand. That look meant that the wheels in his head were turning; he was working things out.

_What if he remembers?_ Edgar worried to himself. Then he turned his head so he was facedown in his pillow. _No…_when_ he remembers…But it could still be if…he might not even…who am I kidding? That asshole is a fucking genius…_

Edgar let out an exasperated sigh, turned out of his pillow and settled on his back. He gripped the front of his t-shirt with one hand and rubbed at his eyes with the other. Then he leaned over and hocked a loogy into the bucket. Afterward he pulled a tissue from the tissue box and blew his nose.

He laid back into his pillow with another sigh, aimlessly tossing the tissue into the garbage bag on the floor. _Might as well start thinking of what to do when he comes back…_

Trouble was Edgar had no idea what to do or say. He was sure that if Alan didn't figure out what happened today, he'd surely remember eventually. When he did, well, Edgar didn't know what would happen. He could think of several negative scenarios that he really did not want to imagine. Whatever happened, he knew that he and his brother's relationship would never be the same ever again.

Edgar's ear pricked.

Distantly, he heard the front door unlock. He tilted his head slightly as he heard it swing open and then slam shut. He heard something hit the floor with a dull thud and then he heard boots striding fervently through the house.

He jumped, when the bedroom door was kicked open. His brother stormed in and grabbed Edgar by the front of his shirt. Edgar instinctively grabbed Alan's wrists as he was suddenly dragged up from his bed. Alan slammed him up against the wall, _hard_. "Oof!" came Edgar's grunt.

"Tell me what I did!" Alan shouted, his eyes boring angrily into Edgar's.

Edgar winced. He had expected Alan to do a lot of things, but he hadn't seen _this_ coming. Alan shook Edgar by his shirt, "_Tell_ me _Goddamnit_!" Again, Edgar didn't answer, but stared, shocked, into his brother's eyes; still not comprehending what was going on. Or rather, he wasn't able to speak.

Alan brought Edgar away from the wall slightly and then slammed him back up against it again, _harder_ this time.

"Ow!"

"Tell me _why_ I keep seeing you and me…inside of my head! Tell me why I'm,"

"Jesus, let go of me!" Edgar shouted out.

Alan slammed Edgar against the wall again, "Is it true? Tell me the truth!"

"Alan, if you smack me into the fuckin' wall one more time,"

"THE TRUTH!" Alan yelled, silencing Edgar.

Edgar stared into either of Alan's eyes. They were angry of course; but Edgar could read them well enough to know that there was desperation; the kind of desperation you would see in a person's eyes if he or she was hanging over a schism with no safety harness, and with no hand to grab onto.

Edgar's tense neck muscles relaxed, and his face fell. He averted his gaze away from his brother's eyes.

Alan watched his brother's eyes move away, looking off to the side. He took in a long, shaky breath, readjusting his grip on Edgar's t-shirt. He licked his lips and swallowed. The failure to answer was an answer itself. Alan's suspicions were confirmed the very second his brother's eyes shied away from his sharp stare.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked softly.

It was then that Edgar's muscles tensed again. His lips pressed into a tight line, and his jaw clenched. His gaze turned back to his brother's and Alan saw a white hot fire in his brother's eyes. He knew that his brother was now seeing red and was about to blow up; he'd seen it often enough.

Edgar shoved Alan off of him, "Why didn't I tell you? _Why_? What the fucking Christ would you have done? Huh? Tell me that!"

"Hell, I don't,"

"You asshole! I didn't tell you because of what you did to me! You fuckin' screwed me all up!" Edgar yelled, his veins pulsating from his skin. He broke into a fit of coughing. Alan didn't go forward to touch his brother with a reassuring, worrying hand as he usually would have. He stared with wide eyes at Edgar, the adrenaline rising in his blood as Edgar yelled, stirring his own anger.

Edgar drew in a raspy breath, "It's because of you that I'm like this now!"

"Well, Christ, I'm sorry that I got you sick, I,"

"NOT THAT, DICKWEED!" Edgar yelled, kicking over the lamp on the floor and surprisingly not breaking the bare bulb. "YOU MADE ME LIKE THIS!" Alan's eyebrows furrowed at his brother. He looked at the redness in his face, the tears brimming the corners of his eyes. His brother never cried. Neither of them did. Well, as far as anyone outside of their personal little world knew. Still, it wasn't often that Alan was reminded that either of them even had tear ducts.

Edgar was panting now and he half-heartedly spoke with hoarseness, "It's your fault that I want…" he trailed off, biting his lip, looking down to the floor as a tear rolled down the side of his face. Alan had heard his brother's voice crack. In the silence that followed, Alan thought he could almost hear Edgar's elevated heartbeat in sync with his.

"_Christ_…" He heard his brother mutter. Edgar looked back up from the floor, angrily glaring into Alan's eyes. "Get out of here." He murmured.

Alan's eyebrows lowered, and he glared back at his brother. He was too pissed now to be hurt that his brother was 'kicking' him out of the home that they shared. The mere fact that Edgar was thinking of making Alan leave sparked a fire within him; made him angrier. He seethed that Edgar thought that Alan would simply comply.

"Did you hear me? GET OUT OF HERE!" Edgar shouted, striding forward and shoving Alan hard toward the doorway. Alan took a step back, his teeth grinding.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" His brother yelled.

Edgar's fist didn't even wind up, but just thrust forward into Alan's face. Pain bloomed from the sensitive bruises upon his face and he stumbled back, bringing a hand to his jaw. Pain also started to throb on the inside of his mouth where the strike had clacked his teeth together, clamping down on the inside of his lip, opening the flesh.

Alan removed his bloodstained hand from his face and let it hang limply at his side. He stared coldly through the doorway at his brother as a trickle of blood rolled down his chin. Edgar glared icily back, a challenge glinting in his eyes; daring Alan to retaliate; to fight back; to leave; to do _something_.

Alan turned his back on Edgar and strode away through the house.

Edgar froze, listening to his brother shuffling in the living room. And then he heard his brother's boots padding toward the front door. His fists clenched, waiting to hear it slam behind him. But it didn't. He heard the door close calmly and coldly behind his brother.

The adrenaline that had pumped through his veins slowed to a stop. He shook his aching fist that he'd used to punch his brother in the face. Then he turned away from the doorway and sunk onto his bed. He drew in a ragged breath, his body starting to shiver. He laid onto his side, dragging the blankets over himself. He brought up his legs and locked his arms firmly around them. He pressed his lips together. His eyes stung.


	8. Subconscious And Miss Sharpshooter

**OH! JUST LIKE I PROMISED! UH HUH! UH HUH! -does the cotton eye joe on my computer desk- I promised that I would have the 8th chapter up either tonight or tomorrow so bam! Even though it's 1:52 in the morning here, I still consider this tonight!**

**Okay so a quick background on how old I feel Alan and Edgar are. I based that off of Corey Feldman's year of birth. He was born in '71, and the movie came out in '87. So Corey was about 15ish while they were shooting the film in '86. ****I didn't look at Jaimson's, but you know haha. I just feel like Alan is the older brother, even if it's only by a handful of months. He just seems like the older one. Even though whenever they're introduced together it's "Edgar and Alan Frog." XDD I still think Alan's older. They only say Edgar before Alan because of Edgar Allen Poe! **

**Ya know, just a little advice for my fellow writers who are reading...I was eating poptarts while I was writing, and it really helped me along...O_O I FOUND THE CURE FOR WRITER'S BLOCK! Poptarts and A LOT of Solitaire. I swear I am the KING of Solitaire. Uh huh, not the Queen, the KING! -does a little cocky dance- XDDD**

**Enjoy this chappy-chapter! It contains the reason why Alan suddenly sexed Edgar! Haha! I know a few of you have been asking me about that. Hope you're not disappointed that it wasn't vampire voodoo XDD**

* * *

Alan walked through the comic store, clipboard in hand. His parents were in their usual spot beside the TV, which was playing his mom's choice; that old western John Wayne movie from the late 60's called _True Grit_…which was interesting because she thought that she had put in _Taxi Driver _from the late 70's.

After rolling his eyes and pushing up the sleeves of his army shirt to his forearms, Alan noticed that his mom seemed to have washed her hair and his dad had seemed to have finally washed his beard.

_Time for their monthly bath already?_ He had thought. A bath in the form of splashing water and soap on themselves from the sink in the bathroom in the backroom; but a bath nevertheless.

He was unfocused as he checked inventory, and barely kept an eye on every delinquent person that waltzed through.

He thought about what he'd done. He was shocked at himself. He had never had thoughts of touching his brother like that…

Okay, he couldn't lie to _himself_. He admitted to himself that he had _had_ thoughts like that before…

He remembered more than once seeing Edgar changing his shirt and he'd imagine running his fingertips up his sides, wondering if his brother would shiver.

He'd catch a glimpse of his brother's naked behind while he was changing into the most decently clean pair of boxers he could find after a shower.

His brother would do pushups alongside of him and he'd watch him sweat out of the corner of his eye and wonder…

Okay, he'd thought about his brother that way. He _had_ had thoughts like that. He'd had dreams before as well. Dreams that woke him up in the middle of the night after which he'd find himself with a hard arousal that he felt compelled to take care of. But these had been mere thoughts and dreams. And they wouldn't occur often. Once in a while. Vaguely. This was probably because Alan would do his best to ignore and repress them.

Now that he thought about it, about a quarter of the time he spent inside of his head was spent thinking about not thinking about his sinful thoughts, curiosities and dreams.

Alan's pen slipped and spread a sloppy little checkmark in one of the checkboxes. That though had confused even himself! And he had thought it! He reached up with his pen hand and rubbed at his eyes.

But now he had found that apparently once his subconscious was in control, there was no repression…he never thought he would actually _act_ on all of those dreams, thoughts and wonderings.

It was clear what Alan's subconscious wanted, what _he_ wanted. And from what he had remembered so far from the little ordeal in the roomful of steam, he'd liked it. More than could have ever imagined. More than he had ever thought possible.

Alan checked off a few boxes on his clipboard.

That's when he realized that…his brother had liked it too.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard something.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Alan recognized that sound. He walked out in front of the shelves and looked at the front entrance. Sure enough, Venus 'Fido' the American Bully was waddling into the shop, tongue hanging out, and her nails clicking against the floor.

He watched the dog go around behind the counter. He glanced up at his mom who still sat with her arms crossed and her head leaned back. Then he heard the dog bark deeply from down on the floor.

He watched both of his parents jump from their stupor, looking around behind their sunglasses. Alan watched his mom's face light up when she looked down and saw Venus.

"Fido!"

His dad licked his lips, reached up and scratched at his beard.

His mom got up and shuffled to the back room, muttering unintelligent baby talk to Venus, leaving few words that Alan could understand. "Oh, good boy. How's my Fido? You wants something? Huh? Do ya? Do ya?"

He could hear the dog panting and jumping around behind the counter. His mom came back around with the ashtray with a few handfuls of junk food from the Boardwalk. She leaned down behind the counter and Alan heard it clink onto the floor. As Venus audibly gorged herself, his mom settled back into her spot beside his now still dad again.

Alan shook his head and turned back to inventory the shelves again.

"Hey, Alan, you here?"

Alan turned at the sound of his name. He weaved back through the shelves until he was in front of the counter. He looked toward the front entrance and saw Melissa there. She'd traded in her leather jacket and her jeans for a black skirt that was frilly at the hem and showed off her legs; and a short-sleeved magenta shirt that showed off her shoulders and her navel. Her hair was fluffy again.

She smiled and walked over to him. "Well? Do I look like a Californian or what?" She did a little twirl and Alan's eyes strayed down to her legs. He heard her laugh and he saw her fingers snap next to her thigh. His eyes returned to hers. She laughed again, "I'll take that as a yes."

Alan shrugged and placed his clipboard next to the cash register. Melissa looked him up and down and smiled, "I spent about an hour and a half deciding what to wear to get you to show a little interest, and the only thing that's changed about you is this," She reached out and tugged lightly on a sleeve of his camo army shirt.

She smiled and looked back up into his eyes. He shrugged again, "I couldn't find a skirt lying around the house." Her smile widened and she scoffed.

"Well, are you, your combat boots, and your bruised up face ready to have a little fun?" She asked. The sound of nails clicking against the floor made Alan look to the gap between the counters. Melissa looked too.

There was Venus, looking up with squinting eyes, tongue hanging out and all. Melissa's eyebrows went up. She glanced at Alan and then knelt down, "Aw, I didn't know you had a dog." Venus sidled closer to Melissa and leaned into her outstretched palm.

Alan watched as Venus's leg kicked while Melissa scratched at her side with her long red fingernails. "She's not my dog. She just comes and goes. My mom feeds her, so I guess that's why she keeps coming back."

Melissa smiled at the Bully, taking hold of the tags, "Let's see heyuh." She cleared her throat, catching her accent. Venus licked her hand and then went around her, waddling back around the counter, little stub of a tail wagging. Melissa got back up to her feet, "Well, goodbye to you too. Sheesh."

Alan shrugged, "Like I said. Comes and goes."

She pursed her lips, "Oh well. So what do you say?" She cocked an eyebrow up at him. Alan glanced at his parents. They were as he had expected…completely out of it. He looked back down at Melissa and gave a small nod. She smiled in triumph and grabbed his hand, running him out onto the Boardwalk.

He had expected her to drag him onto Love River or the Carousel or something, because he had been stereotyping. Melissa had seen the shocked look on his face when she pulled him to a sharp shooting stand.

She tossed him a rifle and picked one up herself, "C'mon, Al, I'll kick your ass." He looked down at his rifle and then at hers. "What? You never played this game before?"

"No, I have it's just…"

"Oh don't start with the sexist stuff. C'mon." She laughed, and raised her rifle, taking aim at the moving ducks and assortment of other little moving knick knacks. He watched her squeeze the trigger and a bull's-eye target went down with a snap. Then a duck, then a balloon, a badger, then a toucan. Then she missed. She lowered her rifle and smirked defiantly at Alan. She cocked an eyebrow at him and gestured that it was his turn.

Alan was impressed. He raised his rifle and took aim. Down went a buffalo, a toucan, a monkey, two ducks, a crow, three balloons, and a bear. He put down his rifle and looked nonchalantly at Melissa. She narrowed an eye at him and put down her rifle. "You_ work_ here so you have an advantage."

* * *

Alan followed her to the big rollercoaster and loaded up a car.

As they went around and slowly started ascending, Melissa laughed, "You know, I just realized that I don't even know a thing about you." Alan looked at her, the wind off of the ocean casting his hair across his forehead, "Same for me."

She laughed again, brushing back her hair, "Alright. You know where I come from, uh, my last name is Daley. What's yours?"

"Frog." Alan answered.

She tilted her head at him. Alan stared back at her. She smiled, "Fr-AHH!" The car had finally reached the top and had taken its plunge. The people in front and behind them raised their arms and screamed out in delight.

Melissa had taken a hold of his arm when she had been stunned by the sudden drop that she hadn't been paying attention to. But she let go now and raised her arms, her hair flailing wildly behind her. She grabbed his hands and brought them up over his head and whooped, "Whoo-hoooo!" Alan chuckled.

* * *

"Fifteen." Alan pinched a wad off of what was left of the pink poof of cotton candy cone that Melissa was holding. He leaned back against the railing and pressed it onto his tongue, sucking the sugar from his fingertips.

"Me too." She said. "My birthday's in Mawch." She closed her eyes, "_March_." Alan shook his head, "I don't care if you have a Brooklyn accent. You don't need to do that."

"Yeh, well, I do." She said, putting a piece of cotton candy into her mouth. She sighed quietly through her nose looking out at the beach. Then she looked at Alan, "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"…One brother…"

"I'm an only child. Is your brother older or younger?" Melissa asked.

Alan pulled off another strip of cotton candy, "We're the same age."

Her eyebrows raised, "You have a twin brother?"

Alan shook his head, "No, he was only born nine months after me…"

"Oh. What's his name?"

"…Edgar…"

Alan's thoughts turned to his brother, the one thing he had been mostly successful in avoiding all night. He thought of their argument. He thought of the redness he had seen in Edgar's face as he'd yelled.

_"YOU MADE ME LIKE THIS!"_

He thought of the tears in the corners of his brother's eyes.

_"It's your fault that I want…"_

He thought of how Edgar had trailed off. At that moment, he'd been so angry that he didn't read further into it. They _both_ had been angry.

As Alan thought about it, he understood why Edgar hadn't told him. He hadn't told Alan because he had liked it…

"Alan?"

His hands stopped clenching and unclenching; he hadn't even realized that he'd been doing it. He looked at Melissa. "Hmm?"

She tossed the empty cotton candy cone into a nearby trashcan and then leaned onto the railing beside him. "What's wrong?"

Alan looked out at the ocean, "Nothing."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her curl a lip inward slightly and then she looked at her watch. She looked up at the sky, "Well, I should probably be getting home." Alan nodded, looking at her, "Okay."

"You won't see me around here for about week. We're heading up north to visit my great aunt Lauren before she comes driving down here to see us. And the woman hasn't renewed her license in twelve years." She smiled.

The side of Alan's mouth tipped up in amusement.

"So, ya gonna kiss me goodnight or what?" She asked, letting her Brooklyn accent take over. She smirked at him and cocked an eyebrow.

"Do I have a choice?" Alan asked and Melissa laughed, taking a hold of his dog tags. She shook her head, "Nope." She gently pulled down on his dog tags, bringing Alan's mouth close to hers. She closed the short distance with a soft kiss.

When they separated, Melissa smirked up at Alan and released his dog tags. "Well, see ya Mister Frog." She turned and started walking away. "See ya, Miss Sharpshooter." Melissa stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder and kept walking.

Alan found himself compelled to attempt watching the way she walked. He tilted his head, not really finding interest in it. He wiped at his lips and looked at his fingers. It was a soft kiss so there wasn't any lipstick on his mouth. He hadn't found himself very much interested in her kiss either.

He tucked his hands into his pockets and walked through the Boardwalk; right back to the comic shop. He found the place just about void of people. The TV had a blue screen and his parents were still perched beside it. There was one kid leaning against a shelf in the back, reading a Flash comic. Alan glanced at the clock. "Hey, we're closing up in about five minutes." He called to the him.

The kid looked up and then closed the comic, "Alright." He set the comic back on the shelf and put his hands in his pockets. He weaved through the shelves and went toward the back entrance. "Have a good one." He said.

"You too." Alan said as he pulled in the comic cart. He was only vaguely surprised that the kid had had the courtesy to wish him a good night. Santa Carla was full of mites but not all of them were so bad.

He walked the back door closed and locked it. He went across to the front entrance and did the same thing. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes with one hand as he went around the counter, reaching for his bike habitually. He stilled his hand in midair and then let it drop to his side. He glanced at his parents and clicked off the TV.

Alan ran his hands down his face and went into the backroom. He looked at the new addition. It was a cruddy old armchair. He went toward it, not really wondering where his parents had gotten it from, because there was an endless list of things that people in Santa Carla would just drop on the sidewalk. It looked worn, but it was wide and still somewhat poofy. Reasonable enough for him to sleep in.

But there was one problem…it was already occupied by 'Fido' the American Bully. She lifted her head and looked up at him. "Are you serious?" he asked. "You just had to pick tonight to have a sleepover?"

The Bully gave a doggish groan tilting her head up at Alan.

"How did you even jump up into the chair? Your legs are too short."

She laid her head back down and let out a long sigh through her nostrils. Alan did the same thing, "Can't you sleep on the couch with Mom and Dad?"

The Bully didn't respond, so Alan admitted his defeat. He went over to the couch and laid down in, not really caring that he was now taking up most of the couch. He was exhausted; physically and mentally as well.

The last thought he had before he fell asleep was, _I shouldn't have blamed, Edgar…_


	9. I Missed You

**Well, several hours of listening to Salad of Doom by SJ Tucker, several games of Solitaire, several water bottles which caused frequent trips to the toilet, and endless amounts of pushing the cat down to lay on the desk instead of block the monitor with her raven-furred little butt later, I have finished this chapter! **

**I must say that I am quite proud of it...It might be the best and longest chapter of the two stories! I also find it funny how I can say 'cock' 'penis' or 'dick' at will during conversation, but when it comes to writing, I get shy and really hesitate to use those words. Trust me, it's ironic. For example instead of saying 'What the hell, man?' or 'What the fuck, man?'...I say 'What the COCK, man?'**

**Haha, thus, those three words are NOWHERE in this chapter! HAH! The only words I use to describe that particular part of the male body are what I've been using: Arousal and e****rection. Haha those are funny words. **

**I will say that I did add 'member' to the private part vocabulary. I even developed the spine to use a word that starts with 'o'! Hehe, a cookie to whoever can tell which word that is after reading!**

**Heh heh, if you haven't guessed by now, I'll tell you, this chapter contains Frogcesty incest goodness! **

**You'd damn well better love me for this XDDD I****t's two in the morning right now, my dad got out of bed to go ice fishing and shot me a dirty look when he saw I was still up, and I've had my bum parked in this chair for hours! Instead of doing a large homework packet for my US History class, I worked on this chapter haha! I'd better be able to feel the love my fellow Frogcest lovers! **

**Well, I think I'm going to go into my room, take off my bra, fall into bed, and catch some very much deserved Z's! G'night! Bonne Nuit! O Yasu Mina Sai! Buenos Noches! La La Salama! Wan An! Spokonia Nochee! Guttenacht! Ly La Tov! ...I'm not the only person who sang that in chorus during elementary school am I? Haha.**

* * *

Edgar lowered the empty glass from his lips and placed it down on the counter, standing in nothing but his boxers and his red flannel shirt that he'd left unbuttoned. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, smearing Frog juice across his skin. He drew in a long breath through his clear nostrils and let the air back out in a long, silent sigh. He bent forward, pressing his elbows to the counter and placed his face into his palms.

It was 7:36 in the evening according to his watch which he had found in the bathroom cupboard under the sink when he went looking for soap for his shower. Funny how you go looking for one thing and find something else that you were looking for a while ago. But Edgar hadn't even been able to chuckle at that irony upon finding it.

Edgar curled his fingers, making his headband slide down over his eyes.

He hadn't seen hide nor hair of his brother since he had delivered a swift punch to Alan's already bruised face. That had happened about two and a half days ago. _Almost three days now…_ Edgar calculated.

In that time, Edgar had managed to take care of himself; get himself to the bathroom; feed himself; shower without taking a plunge. In that time, he'd managed to get himself feeling better. He'd woken up an hour or two before noon, finding that his body heat had finally balanced itself, that he could breathe through his nose and that his throat was mostly clear.

Finding himself able to stand, he had gotten up, and had taken a shower. After that he'd made himself a ham sandwich, then brushed his teeth. He spent a long time after that staring off into space in the living room, trying to convince himself not to think about his brother, and not doing a good job of it. He'd wanted to not think about Alan so badly, that he had flicked on the old radio…and had _cleaned up_ the living room, his bedroom, and the kitchen. He hadn't gotten out a feather duster and a bottle of Windex, if he could possibly find either of those objects, but he could actually see the living room coffee table, the bedroom floor and could actually find a spoon in the kitchen.

Edgar could feel his blood pounding in his ears. He guessed that Alan had been staying at the comic shop with their pothead parents; avoiding coming home; avoiding him. He rubbed at his face and let his hands glide over his headband and into his shaggy hair. He pressed his forehead against the counter, feeling the coolness of the surface. It hadn't even crossed his mind in the past two days that his brother could have possibly been hurt.

Alan had been jumped before. Who was to say it couldn't have happened again? What if Alan had been attacked again? What if Alan had become dinner for some evil blood-sucking, demonic, ugly-faced vampire from Hell?

The image of Alan's face, grave, somber and in black and white, invaded his mind. Alan's face was plastered onto a missing person flier and was fluttering in the wind with a thumbtack straining to keep its hold on the corkboard where dozens of other posters sporting black and white photographs were tacked. Edgar fisted his hair, biting his lip.

_What the hell did I do?_

He quickly straightened his spine, and turned, pushing his headband back up onto his forehead; thinking to find a pair of jeans, pull them on; yank on his boots; grab his bike from the hallway in front of the door; run out and pedal like his ass was on fire to the Boardwalk where he'd check out the comic shop for Alan's presence.

But he was stopped by the widening of his eyes and the loud gasp that had risen from his throat that was already burning with fear and guilt. He jumped slightly, his back pressing up against the refrigerator. He grabbed at his chest in an effort to keep it from pounding its shocked way out from between his ribs.

There in the doorway of the kitchen stood a staring Alan. The bruises on his face were lighter; more so dark blue and green than they had been two and a half days ago when they had been closer to deep purple and tinged with red. He was wearing the same clothes as he had been before he had left, except his feet were bare which suggested that he had left his combat boots at the door. His dark eyes left absolutely everything to the imagination; giving away no secrets. It unnerved Edgar slightly for he could always read his brother at least a little bit.

_But he's _okay_…_Edgar thought, but found himself unable to breathe a sigh of relief. He stared back into his brother's eyes as he stared into his. He wondered sadly if Alan was angry with him. He wouldn't blame him. Edgar hadn't told him what had happened when he didn't remember. He had screamed and swore at him. He had _punched_ him. Sure, being brothers they had spent their fair share amount of time horsing around, wrestling, and all around rough playing. There had been a few nosebleeds here, a bruise or two there; but neither had ever punched the other in the face out of anger. Maybe in the arm, but not the face.

Edgar paused in the wallowing of his guilt when Alan stepped slowly and evenly toward him.

As his brother stepped in front of Edgar, being slightly taller, Alan looked slightly downward into his eyes. Edgar could feel the warmth of Alan's presence, and could now see something in his eyes that had seemed empty at a distance. Alan took another small step forward, definitely invading Edgar's personal space. Alan's chest was almost pressing right up against his brother's.

Edgar lost himself while searching his brother's eyes, trying to understand why he didn't recognize what he could see in them. Alan's left hand lifted and reached over Edgar's right shoulder, his chest now pressing like a feather against Edgar's. He glanced at Alan's hand that had settled firmly against the refrigerator and looked back to his eyes. He watched as Alan tilted his chin downward slightly, making a few locks of his raven hair wisp across one of his eyes. Edgar wet his lips that had suddenly gone dry and felt cracked. Alan then leaned yet closer to his brother, his eyes closing.

Alan's head tilted a little, and his warm lips pressed against Edgar's freshly wet mouth. Edgar stared through his brother's face, his brain in a scramble, his heart throwing itself against his ribs. His vision became hazy for a moment.

Alan's lips left Edgar's nonresponsive lips, and Edgar could feel his steady breath against his chin. He felt Alan's right hand touch his left side and slide around so his palm settled against the small of his back. Alan pulled away slightly, peeking to see what could possibly be waiting for him in his brother's eyes.

He cautiously looked and his breath hitched slightly at the sight of his brother's face. Edgar's eyelids were slightly relaxed, and his eyes seemed faintly drunken. His eyebrows were arched upward slightly and his cheekbones were colored. He could feel Edgar's chest rising and falling quickly against his.

Alan let out a small breath as a very small sigh of relief. He pushed a harder, more ardent kiss against his brother's mouth. This time Edgar's lips reacted, and not only his lips. His hands glided desperately up Alan's sides and weaved in between his brother's arms. He reached around Alan's neck, and his hands went into Alan's hair that Edgar found actually felt clean.

Alan tilted his head the other way, pressing his brother up against the refrigerator. Edgar's hands clenched into fists in his brother's hair; keeping Alan from pulling away any further than Edgar found necessary or acceptable. Alan's left hand found its way to embrace the back of Edgar's head of long hair, applying more pressure to each movement of his lips. He panted ruggedly through his nostrils. He could hear Edgar's breath rapidly working against his cheek. His own lungs weren't working quite as hard as Edgar's.

He brushed his tongue along Edgar's top lip, and Edgar eagerly opened his mouth. Alan danced his tongue with his brother's submissive tongue. Edgar found the flavor of Alan's tongue entirely intoxicating as it massaged roughly against his taste buds.

When Alan's tongue started to leave his mouth, Edgar quickly caught it between his lips. He shivered when he heard Alan's surprised intake of breath. He sucked enthusiastically on his brother's tongue.

The moment Edgar's force let up on his tongue, Alan trapped his brother's lower lip between his teeth. He gathered it well into his mouth and kissed Edgar ardently, hearing a moan rumble in his brother's throat. Alan's hand ran down Edgar's backside, across his upper thigh and grasped his brother's crotch. Edgar broke from the kiss, his head pressing back against the refrigerator, a rugged gasp rising up his throat as he jumped. Alan pressed his lips to his brother's exposed neck.

Edgar let out a shuddering moan which turned into a pleasured grunt as Alan's hand tugged on his throbbing arousal. Alan ran his tongue up the vein in Edgar's neck. "_God_…" Edgar breathed.

Alan panted out quietly back, "Come with me…" He took the sides of Edgar's flannel shirt into his hands, turning him away from the fridge. Edgar hooked his arms back around Alan's neck, fervently joining their mouths again in a pressured frenzy. Alan backed Edgar from the kitchen, his hands sailing across the bare skin of his brother's chest.

He hooked his arm around Edgar's waist, and caught the wall over Edgar's right shoulder. His brother grunted when he hit the wall beside the hallway doorway with his back. Alan traced the inside of Edgar's mouth with his tongue, maneuvering him across the hallway. Edgar grunted again when his shoulder caught the side of their bedroom doorway.

Alan guided Edgar into their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. He disentangled Edgar's arms from around his neck, and gave his brother a good shove. Edgar fell back onto Alan's bed, his eyes looking disappointed at the space between them. Alan quickly closed the distance again by climbing onto the bed and straddling his brother, his dog tags hanging down between them and clinking against one another.

Edgar eagerly reached up and grasped the front of Alan's shirt, pulling him downward. He pressed his tongue into Alan's mouth, but it was quickly wrestled back by Alan's skilled, _dominant_ tongue. Edgar felt his brother's hand slide through his hair and grasp the back of his head, guiding it to tilt slightly to the right.

Edgar was kissed breathless by his brother, his heart raced, and his lower half was _aching_. Alan pulled away slightly and Edgar gasped in a much needed breath and attacked Alan's army shirt. He pulled it open, and sat up slightly, his teeth latching onto the nape of his brother's neck as he yanked Alan's army shirt off of his arms.

Alan groaned, tilting his chin upward. He felt his brother's fingers at the hem of his t-shirt. Edgar's teeth released Alan's neck and he yanked his brother's shirt upward. Alan complied with his brother's need; lifting his arms as Edgar just about ripped it from his body. Their gazes locked as Edgar shrugged out of his flannel shirt. Sweat shined on their skin from the elevated pounding of their hearts, and their combined body temperatures.

The moment the cuffs of the flannel released Edgar's wrists, he moved to reach around his brother's neck.

His breath seized up in his throat when Alan seized his wrists and thrust them up over his head, pinning him on the bed. Alan looked hazily down into his brother's wide eyes looking up at him. He paused, recognizing the twinge of fear in his eyes.

_No…not like this…_never_ like this…never again…_ He thought, picturing what he remembered about the bathroom incident.

His fingers uncurled from around Edgar's wrists and he gently stroked his fingertips down and up his brother's forearms. This noticeably calmed his brother, his frightened eyes softening and his breath finding its way slowly and quietly back out of his throat.

Alan gathered Edgar's hands into his palms, making entirely sure not to manacle his wrists, and gently brought them up to settle around his neck. He leaned down, thinking to press a soft, reassuring kiss to his little brother's lips.

But Edgar had already seemed to have recovered from the brief ordeal. His fingertips clasped rigidly into Alan's skin, causing a bit of a sting, and pulled Alan abruptly down. He rejoined their lips, and Alan complied again, resuming the breathless tango between their tongues.

With one hand braced against the bed, Alan's other hand slid smoothly down his brother's bare chest, rising and falling slightly with the contours of his soft abs. Downward his hand traveled and then crept inside of Edgar's boxers and slithered between his legs. His brother whimpered as his hand grasped and caressed his erection. His knee jerked and caught Alan in the soft side of his stomach where a bruise was healing.

Alan grunted.

Edgar breathed, "_Sorry_." His brother's hand was still encasing his arousal. "_Uhn_, I…_s-sorry_."

Alan said nothing, plunging his tongue back into Edgar's mouth. Edgar breathed hard through his nostrils, squirming slightly beneath his brother.

"Let me…" Edgar hissed during the second Alan had separated their lips to tilt his head the other way. "What?" Alan asked quietly against his brother's lips, feeling Edgar's short fingernails raking down his chest, leaving a trail of tingling, stinging, soft burn. He drew his stomach in slightly as Edgar's fingertips sailed down it. Alan sucked on Edgar's lower lip, feeling his brother panting against his own lip.

He felt Edgar's fingers find and tug the waistband of his jeans. It was a fumbling scene between them seeing as they were co close. It didn't quite help Edgar's goal that his brother was moving his hand up and down agonizingly slow on his arousal inside of his boxers.

Edgar laid his head back hard against the pillow, closing his eyes, his loud groan of both pleasure and annoyance. He heard Alan chuckle and then he felt the light material of his boxers sliding down his legs. He opened his eyes, letting out a gasp of anticipation. Alan freed his brother from both his boxers and his hand, which caused Edgar to whimper in restlessness.

Alan undid his jeans, watching his brother's chest rise and fall heavily. He caught Edgar's hazy gaze as he grasped both the waistband of his jeans and his boxers. He kept his eyes on his brothers', observing how they watching his last pieces of clothing travel quickly down his legs.

After managing his jeans off of his ankles, Alan placed himself back over his brother, and thrust his tongue deeply into Edgar's mouth, his cool dog tags settling against his brother's chest.

The blood that had already made its way south in his body pulsed within him hard as he felt the vibrations of Edgar's moan in his mouth. He growled in his throat when Edgar bucked upwards slightly, causing intense, raw friction. Edgar's arms came around Alan's neck, pressing his mouth hard against his, sucking on his tongue.

Alan released himself from the kiss and harshly brushed his teeth against his brother's neck, making Edgar turn his head to one side. He briefly slicked his fingers, and then went back to worshipping his brother's neck.

Edgar tilted his head back as Alan sucked on his throat. He felt his brother's warm palms slip down the insides of his thighs. Alan's hands grasped the nooks behind his knees and lifted his legs up toward his torso. He let out a shuddering breath as he felt his brother's wet fingers press into him.

Edgar grunted, and then drew in a long, deep breath. He let it out slowly with a shiver. He bit his lip, knowing the feel of the intrusion, but hardly recognizing it. His mind suddenly multitasked, sending him messages of the odd discomfort, but now added the overwhelming feel of his brother's mouth claiming his, and also the feel of Alan's hand returning to his erection. He pressed his lips together to quiet the grunt that came up his throat as Alan pressed another finger into him. _Jesus Christ…_His thought with his cloudy mind.

"_Ah!_" Alan heard his brother yell, and he stilled his hands, looking worriedly at his brother's face. Edgar bit Alan's lower lip and dragged his teeth along it, hissing in between his teeth, "_Don't…stop_." He remembered the feeling of Alan's fingertips against whatever the hell it was days ago. He reveled as Alan's fingers hooked inside of him, scratching against that spot once again. Behind his eyelids spots danced and he let out a loud sigh, feeling like his insides had fallen asleep and were tingling as if an army of pleasurable little ants were scuttling through them.

Edgar turned his head to one side, groaning. Alan licked his dry lips, his own arousal aching. But he refused internally to act too soon. He watched the profile of Edgar's face, making sure he wasn't hurting his brother. He observed Edgar's arched eyebrows under his headband, the sweat and saliva on his neck, his shut eyes, and the way his quivering lips were slightly parted. It was a wonderful sight. And it was causing the blood to pump more rigorously below his waist.

Edgar's eyes fluttered open, gazing fuzzily up at his brother. He could read the need and excitement in Alan's dark eyes. He fisted his brother's raven hair and yanked him downward, conjoining their lips. He fell submissive to his brother's strong tongue. His skull further filled with clouds with the sensations of his brother's hand, fingers, mouth and tongue. His legs numbed, and he cried out against Alan's lips when he scraped his fingers across the sensitive spot inside of him again.

"_Christ!_" As Edgar ruggedly breathed, Alan drew his upper lip into his mouth. He slid his fingers out of his brother, making him groan against his mouth. He took his own erection into his now free hand and guided it to Edgar's entrance.

When Edgar felt Alan slowly pressing into him, his arms went taut around his brother's neck and he let out a restless moan. His stomach quivered inside of him, becoming warm and he writhed slightly under his brother. Alan released Edgar's arousal, pressing himself forward, closing his eyes at the feel of Edgar's muscles clamped tightly and warmly around him. He leaned closer toward Edgar, pressing his hands into the bed on either side of his brother.

He watched his brother's pleasured face as he buried himself to the hilt within him. Edgar's fingertips went rigid against Alan's skin. Alan drew back slowly, feeling a bead of sweat run down his temple, he groaned. He watched Edgar sink his teeth into his lip as he slowly thrust back into him, muffling a cry. He recoiled and thrust back into Edgar again, a bit more quick this time. This brought a pained moan from between Edgar's lips.

Alan reached down and grasped his brother's arousal, aside from feeling pleasure, he felt guilt at his brother's pain. He picked up a steady, gentle pace with his thrusts and his hand. With each thrust, Alan's dog tags clinked metallically against one another between the brothers. He watched his brother's eyes open, and roll upward slightly, "Ah, _God_."

It was as Edgar remembered it; the pain and the bliss that mixed together to make him nearly pass out. He sucked in a breath, leaning his head back, and groaning. He grasped his brother's sides with his knees as Alan increased the rate of his pace. He felt his brother's panting, and occasionally groaning, breath upon him. When Alan rubbed against that spot within him, it was even better than Edgar remembered. "_Agh! Je…sus!_" The bottom of his stomach opened up, and the prickling, teasing pleasure spread all throughout his body right down to his fingertips.

The smooth caress of the sheets under him were comforting as well as the worn pillow. The feel of his brother driving into him amplified in his sensitive flesh that was now at least three times as sensitive. With each thrust, Edgar let out an airy moan, moving with his brother. His short fingernails dragged scorching trails up Alan's back.

Edgar couldn't believe how fast he breathed. He teetered on the line between consciousness and unconsciousness. Alan intently stared down at his brother, watching his features. His brother's eyes opened, looking up at Alan, cloudy, hazy and drunken. Alan could hardly believe how good it felt; how much he liked that look on his brother's face; how warm he had become.

Alan quickened his pace to follow Edgar as his brother started to fall apart beneath him. Edgar yelled out, letting go in his brother's hand and over his own stomach. His arms lost their grip and fell from Alan's shoulders as he shuddered and cried out in his orgasm.

Alan released his brother's exhausted member and braced his hand on the bed on the empty side of Edgar's head. He closed his eyes, and listened to his brother's whimpers as Alan raced to finish closely behind Edgar, otherwise only allowing himself to feel.

Edgar cried out as his brother fell over the edge to join him. He gasped when Alan slumped downward slightly, panting. Déjà vu clawed at Edgar's chest as he witnessed an almost-memory before his eyes.

But Alan looked up, still panting, and his lungs working hard. He looked into Edgar's hooded eyes. They were relieved, and satisfied. Alan lifted himself up to some extent and slid himself out of his brother's body. Edgar closed his eyes and let out a sigh at his brother's exit. He felt his brother settle back down, right on top of him. His naked skin was slick with sweat and warm against him.

Edgar opened his eyes again and looked into his brother's eyes. His brother's eyes were darker than usual, tender and affectionate. He leaned close to Edgar and kissed him with soft, gentle lips. Edgar moved his lips against his and brushed his tongue against his brother's, feeling his warm breath.

With a last, prolonged kiss, Alan sighed, turned and fell onto his back beside his brother, entirely spent. Edgar turned his head to look at his brother's profile. His eyes were closed and the muscles in his jaw were soft. His raven hair was slightly damp with sweat. Edgar licked his lips and looked to the shade-less lamp and rolled off of the bed. He took a couple of wobbly steps and leaned down. He switched off the light and was engulfed in darkness.

He turned back toward his brother's bed where he knew it sat in the darkness. He pressed his knee onto the mattress, taking the comforter into his right hand. He laid down onto his side, pulling the comforter up to cover him and Alan. Edgar scooted closer to his brother and threw a tired arm across his chest, resting his head against Alan's shoulder.

He felt his brother's hand slide up his spine and then pull Edgar tighter against the side his body. Edgar let out a small sigh of his own and closed his eyes in the darkness. He heard the rustling against the pillow, and he felt Alan rest his cheek against the top of his head. Edgar tightened the muscles of his arm that was looped over his brother's chest, and let out a small sigh through his nostrils. _I missed you…_


	10. The Morning After

Alan licked his lips tiredly. Something felt good. But he was too groggy to tell what it was. Whatever it was had brought him from sleep. He could see that it was light from behind his eyelids. He let out a groan.

That was when he realized what felt so good. His body woke up fully with his realization and he could feel. He could feel the sheets of his bed underneath him. He could feel teeth biting at his neck. And if that wasn't enough he could feel an arousal being thoroughly tugged on between his legs.

He fisted the sheets in his left hand beside the wall and let out a long sigh. He forced his eyes open, feeling a warm tongue against his heated skin. He cast his gaze downward and found his brother's mane of hair.

Alan arched his neck back. _For _fuck's_ sake…_ He groaned again. When he felt his brother's teeth nip at his throat, his hands snapped to Edgar's shoulders. He heard Edgar cry out in shock as Alan swiftly turned the tables, and turned his brother as well. His dog tags clinked together as he shifted.

Alan fisted his brother's hair in his left hand and pressed a ruthless kiss to his lips, to which Edgar responded with a pleasured whimper in his throat. His right hand moved down and grasped his brother's own erection.

He parted their lips and tilted his head the other way, thrusting his tongue into Edgar's mouth. His brother's interlaced moans and sighs were better than any music that played at the concerts held frequently on the Boardwalk. Even better than when Tommy Capello played _I Still Believe_. That show had been pretty intense; intense enough to hear perfectly from the comic shop as if the show had been right inside of it. But the many sounds that his brother was making were so much more intense.

He groaned into his brother's mouth as Edgar's hand worked quickly on his erection, just as he was doing to Edgar's erection.

Edgar had never done that for him before, well not as if the two of them had a long history of doing this, but still. Alan didn't even have to decide if he liked it or not. Plain and simple, he _loved_ the feel of what his brother was doing for him.

His brother didn't seem bent on dragging this out as long as he could, for his pace quickened drastically. Alan kept right up with him, his chest working up and down as he panted along with Edgar.

And then for the third time, Edgar came in his brother's hand, crying out and wincing as he did. Alan nursed Edgar's spent member, and sucked in a breath, pulling away from his brother's lips. His muscles tensed and his arousal throbbed painfully in Edgar's hand. He captured his brother's lip in between his, a small whine in his throat, begging for release from Edgar. Thankfully he didn't have to endure the almost unbearable and pleasurable pain much longer because he let go in his brother's hand for the first time with a grunt.

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**HAH! **

**Oh dear guys...HAHA! I can so tell ****that you are SO pissed at me right now! XDDD**

**Blame WHOTHEFUCK for this chapter! I went back and reviewed her last lengthy comment and she gave me an idea. So light your torches, sharpen your pitchforks and flush all of her cigarettes down de toilet! XDDD **

**Haha, I'm just playing around, I love you Tay. ^w^ Everytime I see a comment of yours, I laugh, not just because of what you've written, but at your penname as well XD **

**I love you too demetrifever! You make me feel like a freshly toasted wild berry poptart! OMNOMNOM!**

**But anyways, I'm sorry that I haven't updated in almost a month. I've been dealing with some emotional issues and then of course there's been school work which was genetically designed to get on my tits...I hope you can forgive me and love me again! **

**Hehe, I know, I know. You won't love me again until I make up for this meager little pathetic excuse for a chapter XD Call it an early April Fool's joke, courtesy of WHOTHEFUCK! XDD I'm off of school on vacation this week, I _suppose_ I could _possibly_ find the time to write up the next chapter for you guys. But you'll have to show me the love! ^w^**

**Love you guys!**


	11. Forehead

**Wow...twernt lying when that guy said "To sit alone with my conscience is judgement enough"... So of course every night I've been calling myself a lazy bum! I mean, the musical Grease was over last Saturday (I played a Greaser and I found out that I can totally rock sideburns XDD) and I've just been wallowing in the free time! Just watching Scrubs that I have all on DVD and drinking water every night! I've been so lazy that I've lost weight! XDD That sounds weird I know, but still! **

**Anyways, I felt like I should open up this chapter and finish at least before Friday so you guys could have a little something. There's not much here, but I'd say it's tender and a tad bit humorous! Hehe...I mean, you know how manly the boys have to be. **

**Does it help if I randomly tell you that I just noticed today that my hair is a somewhat of a whatchamacallit short kind of mullet? XDD I shit you not, I have a friggin' pixie mullet! I look so stupid that I just wanna punch a hole in a mountain! XDD**

**Forgive me, my friends? -puppy eyes- **

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Edgar felt something warm and wet gliding gently down the skin of his bare chest. He slowly opened his eyes, only realizing just then that he had blacked out. He looked downward, seeing himself naked and uncovered, lying on his brother's bed. His headband was hanging around his neck. A hand was slowly running a washcloth down his chest, cleansing his skin of the semen that had been the product of their brief but passionate scene moments ago.

Edgar looked to his brother, who was perched on the edge of the bed to his right, nothing remotely close to a covering anywhere on his body. He was wearing nothing but his dogtags. His eyes were cast downward to Edgar's chest, focused on his current task. Edgar wanted his brother to look at him. He wanted to be given the chance to read what lay in Alan's eyes.

Edgar drew up his hands and propped himself up on his elbows, the bedsprings creaking quietly under him. His brother's hand stilled against him and his eyes lifted to his. Edgar's breath drew in slightly, seeing the calmness and gentleness in Alan's dark eyes.

Only Edgar's quiet breath broke the silence between the brothers as they stared into one another's eyes. Edgar licked his lips and swallowed, wetting his dry throat.

Alan watched Edgar's features change slightly; his eyebrows arching upward by the slightest and his lips parting a bit further. He could sense the silent nervousness in his brother. He could see the wordless question, the unspoken request per se in his eyes.

Alan answered to it, leaning downward, his hair hanging about his face. He felt his brother's left hand reach up and place itself warmly across the back of his neck as he slanted a soft and civilized kiss to his brother's lips.

Despite the tranquility in the kiss, Edgar felt his heart pound excitedly. Their lips parted with a nearly silent smack and Edgar let out a quiet, warm breath. Alan leaned back, making Edgar's hand fall from his neck. Studying his brother's blush, he took the washcloth into his left hand.

Alan gently slid his now empty right hand up his brother's chest. His palm slid up the side of Edgar's neck and the heel of his hand stopped against the side of his jaw. His three lower fingers laid under his ear. His index finger and his thumb rested against his colored cheek. Alan gently caressed his brother's warm skin gently with his calloused thumb.

Then he leaned forward and Edgar felt his warm lips press against his forehead. His eyes widened slightly and his cheeks burned. Then Alan's lips were gone with a small, hardly audible smack and his brother stood up from the bed.

Edgar turned, and watched his brother fish his boxers from his discarded pants on the floor. "You did _not_ just kiss me on the forehead!"

Alan turned a devilishly cocked eyebrow and a deviant smirk on his brother as he pulled on his boxers. "'Fraid I did, Eddie."

Edgar's eyebrows raised and he glared at the sound of the bullying nickname he hated. Apparently it wasn't enough that Alan had made him feel like some blushing, innocent girl by kissing him on the forehead. His brother had just added insult to injury. His brother exited the room. Edgar stammered, "H-wh-you-w-" He let out an agitated growl and jumped from Alan's bed, shoving his headband back up to his forehead. He found his own boxers and yanked them on.

He stomped into the hallway, looking for his brother, "You freakin'-" He froze when his head was clasped between his brother's hands and his headband was dragged down. Alan crushed his lips onto Edgar's forehead making sure to make an obnoxious, smoochy sound and release him with a pop. "Oh you son of a _BITCH_!"

Alan laughed and fled from the hallway through the living room with Edgar on his heels. Alan jumped onto the couch. Edgar dove to tackle him, and Alan's hands settled on Edgar's shoulders and he simply hopped over him like it was a game of leap Frog. Alan hopped down from the coffee table, still laughing. Edgar left the couch and heaved his weight into his brother's side, throwing his arms around his waist. With a breathy laugh Alan let out an, "Oh shit!"

And down they both went. As soon as Alan was on the floor, he reached down and hooked an arm around his brother's chest, dragging his grip loose. Alan rolled them over so he was on top of his brother. Edgar wasn't going to be bested easily. The two brothers romped and rolled across the living room floor, Alan all the while laughing with his dogtags clinking. Even when Alan bumped his head against one of the legs of the coffee table he still laughed after a little grunt.

Edgar took an iron grip on his brother's left arm and twisted it painfully behind his back, shoving him onto his stomach. Alan grunted when Edgar straddled his back, one hand at his trapped wrist and the other pressing his right shoulder into the floor. Alan turned his face to the left and the brothers panted heavily for a moment.

Edgar blew a lock of his bangs from his eye, feeling triumph swell up in him. Then from his brother's profile, a grin appeared and he laughed. Edgar's eyes widened a little and then his brows furrowed in frustration. Even in defeat, his brother had the gumption to laugh at him. Just like he always did.

"You can't even let me enjoy this, can you, you bastard?" Edgar asked lowly, reaching up and pushing his hair from his face. Alan looked up at him, and then answered, "Nope."

Edgar shook his head and reached to his headband that was hanging around his neck to push it back up onto his forehead again. "Jesus!" He cried out when he was suddenly thrown onto his back. Then he was looking up at his brother who was wearing an amused smirk in his eyes as he straddled him. His hands were clasped in Alan's and being pressed onto the floor. Alan's dogtags were hanging down between them.

Edgar scowled up at him. Alan cocked an eyebrow at him, "Nothing? No insult? Not even a bit of a struggle?"

Edgar remained silent, narrowing his eyes as he glared up at his brother. Alan tilted his head, "What about if I do this?" He leaned down.

_The bastard's gonna kiss me on the forehead again!_

Edgar tried to turn his head, squeezing his eyes shut, "Don't you even-" But at the last moment Alan's lips claimed Edgar's. He felt the cool metal of his brother's dogtags lying against his collarbone. He jumped lightly in his chest, but his tensed jaw muscles slackened and he let out a small breath from his nostrils. A very gentle, and pacifistic tongue pressed its way into Edgar's mouth. Edgar met it with his own tongue.

His breath drew in slightly as the tongue slid slowly from his mouth and the warm saliva slipped across his lips. Another soft kiss pressed to his wet lips and then they slowly left him. There was a small noise in his throat, sharing his pleasure and slight disappointment with the quiet room.

Alan let go of his brother's hands and he sat back. He watched as Edgar's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at him. They stared into one another's eyes for a long moment, and Edgar's heart warmed greatly against his ribs.

Then Alan took hold of Edgar's headband and thrust it back up onto his forehead. He smirked, "Well, I'll go take a shower. You get dressed and we'll head down to the shop."

He brought his feet under him and lifted himself from his brother and stepped over him. Edgar turned onto his side and looked after Alan. He heard his brother's footsteps go down the hallway, and then he heard the bathroom door close. When he heard the shower start, he looked at his watch. He raised his eyebrows, thinking that it couldn't possibly be 2:34 in the afternoon already.

He and Alan hadn't been up _that_ late last night…

_Or were we?_ He wondered, cocking an eyebrow to himself.


	12. Only You

**Haha...I figured I really owed it to you guys. So instead of editing my English project, I present yallz with another wonderfully long (and overdue) chapter! I'm sure that you've missed the boys. **

**So I went to Washington DC earlier on during my spring break...Mhmm...There were a lot of joggers. And hot shirtless guys and really cute girls. I felt bad at the Vietnam memorial. The Lincoln memorial had a lot of stairs. The Washington momument was obviously compensating for something. And the reflecting pool didn't even have water! It had a bunch of CATs in it and they were doing SUTTIN...I think the only memorial or sight I was really impressed with was this one with three women on the battlefield, taking care of this dying soldier. One was holding a cloth to a bullet wound in his chest, one was holding his helmet and close to crying, and the other was grabbing the first one's elbow and looking all fearfully to the sky like "HOLY SHIT! DEM BOMBS COMIN!" It was wonderful. **

**Oh and I think I have slept in every position possible on those stupid Amtrak trains...Hate those things...Except for that awesome guy I call The Conductor who gave me a stack of tickets with 'Believe' punched into them after I asked him is he was gonna go all Polar Express on me. He spent a little time in the back working on them for me. Haha that guy was awesome.**

**Anyways, enjoy the lovely chapter. I guarantee that it is a nice read.**

* * *

With a cardboard box balanced on one of Edgar's forearms, he stacked comics onto the shelves so neatly and orderly that Sammy would be proud. He could hear the pencil in his brother's hand tapping rhythmically against the counter from amongst the shelves. He looked up as a civilian went past him, browsing the shelves. He cocked an eyebrow at the colored mohawk that the guy was sporting. _Jesus, he looks like a rocket pop…_

While keeping his eyes on the browser, Edgar reached into the box again. He looked into it when his hand met empty air. And it was empty. He glanced back at the browser and then sighed quietly through his nose. _I'm watching you, Popsicle. _

He weaved through the shelves back to the front. His brother was seated behind the counter and bent over it with his elbows on the table. One hand was still tapping the pencil. His other hand was cradling the side of his head. Edgar went around the counter and into the backroom where he set down the empty box. He came back through and stood behind his brother, setting one hand onto his hip and the other flat out on the counter beside all of the papers Alan was pouring over.

"Hey. How's it going?" He asked, looking at the ocean of numbers and calculations.

Alan leaned back, lifting his elbows from the counter so he sat upright. "Well, so far we're not too bad. I'm pretty sure we can pay this month's. But then we got an increase percentage on the payment for our house…so I'm working on that. We got the normal pay covered but then we got this bullshit increase so I'm not sure about that part."

Edgar scanned the sheet that sat to the side where Alan had a long list of numbers into an equation. He pointed to a sheet across from it, "Hang on, did you add this figure in?"

Alan leaned in and looked where his brother was pointing. An aggravated grumble rumbled in his throat, "No. Hang on." He flipped the pencil around and did some erasing. Edgar let out another sigh of his nose. Then he looked up. The browser with the mohawk was just leaving the shelves and two steps away from the front exit. He shook his head, "Hey, Popsicle. Either pay for it, or put it the fuck back on the shelf and get the hell out."

The guy stopped and looked over at Edgar. Alan looked up from what he was doing over at the attempted-shoplifter. _He's gonna put it back…_

Alan was wrong. The browser made a run for it.

"Yeah, I was hoping you'd try!" Edgar yelled, hopping right over the counter and sprinting after the guy. The shoplifter wasn't four yards from the shop before Edgar tackled him to the ground. Alan shook his head from where he sat and looked back down to his figures and continued penciling.

Edgar struggled with the shoplifter on the hard ground with passerby's crying out and stopping to watch the ruckus. Edgar got his hands clamped on the shoplifter's biceps, and the shoplifter threw his head back, headbutting Edgar in the nose. "Ow! Jesus!"

Edgar turned the guy over onto his back and jammed his knuckles into his cheek. The struggling of limbs, the grunting, and the growling resulted in either boy getting bumped or hit numerous times. The onlookers' reactions made it almost theatrical. Edgar punched the shoplifter in the stomach a few dozen times. That seemed to dull the shoplifter's intentions and spirits because he cried out, "Agh! Stop! Stop! I give up! _Please_!"

Edgar stopped his assault with his fist in the air. Both of them were panting. His long hair was in a bit of a fight-rumpled disarray. Blood covered his upper lip and his chin from where it flowed from his nose. Dirt coated his pants and his shirt. The shoplifter was in a worse state. Blood was dripping from his nose more heavily, from a split gum, from a cut in his lip, and from a cut under his eye that was a little swollen. His mohawk wasn't really standing high anymore and he was covered in dirt as well.

Edgar lowered his fist and he tore open the shoplifter's jacket and grabbed the comic book from the left side. He pushed himself off of the guy and ran the back of his dirty wrist under his nose with a small sniffle. He shook his head, "It's hardly three bucks, man! That's less than a large popcorn! Seriously?" He shook his head and ran his wrist under his nose again, heading back into the shop again.

"Stupid prick." Edgar muttered weaving back between the shelves to replace the comic book. He sniffled, the blood still running from his nose. Alan looked up from his calculations and leaned slightly to either side, trying to get a good look at his brother whose back was turned to him.

Edgar turned around and headed back toward the counter. He paused and pointed around at the other browsers who had stopped to see the ordeal between Edgar and the guy with the mohawk. "They're _comic_ books. You may think they're not worth paying for, but they're not worth _stealing_ either." He gestured his thumb toward the exit, "Even ask Popsicle Head." Then he went to the front and stood across from the counter, adjusting his rumpled clothes and dusting the dirt from his body.

Alan looked worriedly at the blood running down his brother's chin. The shoplifter had been about Edgar's height but a lot lankier, so Alan knew that his brother could handle the guy alone. He hadn't expected there to be blood though. "This one gave you a bit of a fight. You okay, Edgar?" He asked.

Edgar snorted, "Oh just fine. Where's Fido the stubby little guard dog you told me about?" He cocked an eyebrow down at his brother, and ran his wrist under his nose again with a sniffle.

Alan shrugged, "I don't know. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." He put down his pencil. Edgar shook his head, "No. I'll do it myself. You just keep an eye on the shop."

"Alan, we're out of toilet paper." Said their mother as she came out of the backroom, the toilet flushing loudly behind her. She adjusted her sunglasses. Alan glanced over his shoulder, "No, we got more in the cupboard, Mom."

She nodded, "Oooh." She came over and looked down at the papers splayed on the counter in front of Alan. "I'm glad you're doing your homework, Alan." She said. "You're young and you got to be smarter than the generation before you so you can lead the way past all the heartache. You know. Like in the yellow submarine." She settled down next to the television and their dad, bringing a lighter up to a roach she'd removed from her pocket.

Edgar shook his head, "It's _summer_, Mom. And those are the payments."

She blew out smoke and then said, "Oh wonderful. Wait till you get to vote. They let you keep frogs at the top."

Edgar cocked an eyebrow at her. Alan shook his head, "Mom, can you keep an eye on the shop?"

She blew out some smoke and brushed her hair back with her fingers, "Why? Do we have stickyfingers in here again?" Alan nodded, "Yeah." She nodded, "Oooh. Have you seen, Fido, Alan?"

Alan shook his head, standing up from his stool, "No, Mom. Fido hasn't been around tonight."

"Did you get dog food for him? I don't think it's very nice for his poor little stomach to keep eating cotton candy." She said.

Alan nodded, "Yes, Mom. I got dog food for her yesterday. Now please keep an eye on the shop." She nodded, bringing the doobie to her lips and turning her gaze onto the browsers, "Aye aye, Skipper."

Alan nodded, "Okay. C'mon, Edgar." He pressed his hand to his brother's back and followed him into the backroom and into the bathroom. He pulled some paper towels off the roll and ran them under warm water. He looked to his brother, "Lemme see." Edgar jut out his chin slightly and let Alan wipe away the blood.

Alan gently wiped the blood from Edgar's face. He smiled, "You know, I think that's the most normal Mom's been for weeks." Edgar smiled and then chuckled along with his brother. He shook his head slightly as Alan turned away to get a dry paper towel. "I think it's closer to months."

Alan nodded as he turned back and pressed the paper towel lightly to Edgar's nostril which had just about stopped bleeding. "Yeah. She has her spells of being…not as stoned as usual."

Edgar chuckled, "When was the last time you heard Dad talk?"

Alan snorted, "Maybe Mom should be a bit more like him." Edgar chuckled again, "Have a silent, stuck-in-her-head kind of attitude when she's high, like Dad?" Alan chuckled, and nodded taking the paper towel away from his brother's nose and looking at the light spots of red.

"She sometimes says the weirdest, most stupid things. It's kind of embarrassing." Edgar smiled.

Alan shrugged, "I think I prefer the weed-comas. But then again, good thing we don't have friends that Mom can embarrass us in front of like a couple of _regular_ teenagers." Edgar shrugged as Alan pressed the paper towel lightly against his nostrils again, "Well there's Sammy. But one can hardly feel embarrassed when he's standing in the room with his stupid flashy wardrobe."

Alan nodded, "Yeah, s'pose you're right." He finally lifted the paper towel from Edgar's nose and tossed it into the trash can. Edgar touched his nose lightly, "Thanks." Alan nodded, "No problem, Bro. Now let's get back to doing our taxes like big kids." He left the bathroom.

Edgar rolled his eyes as he followed after, "You know I failed math last year." Alan looked over his shoulder, "Oh shut up, no you didn't. Quit trying to be a lazy ass."

"Oh gee, thanks." Edgar snorted.

He sat down behind the counter again and picked up the pencil. He started scrawling across the paper as Edgar worked the register when one of the customers decided to pay for a couple of comics.

"Well, look at that. We actually save a little money this time around." Alan said. Edgar looked over and asked, "What do you mean? How?" he dropped the customer's change into his hand and then came over to stand next to Alan.

"Well, because of that number that you pointed out, we had a bigger money total than I thought. So we just add this here. Take away that percentage…" he scrawled across the paper. Edgar nodded, watching the pencil moving. "Oh yeah, look at that."

The two of them had been doing taxes and house payments in place of their parents for several years. They had experience and knew what to look for. The two of them had decided long ago that they were probably the most mature teenagers their age which came from having two stoned-most-of-the-time parents.

Alan itched his nose. "Looks like we're done with this." He started gathering the papers together. "So you'll make the payment?" Edgar asked, going back over to the cash register to wait for the customer that was coming over with a few comics tucked under her arm.

Alan nodded, "Yeah. I'll do it now in the backroom and I can drop it off in the post office tomorrow morning." Edgar nodded, "Good."

* * *

Things quieted down as it got later. Most of everyone on the Boardwalk was at the concert that was playing. Edgar was leaned against one of the shelves, leafing through the pages of a vampire comic of the shop's horror comic collection. Alan was seated on the stool behind the counter with his head in one hand and he was watching Beneath the Planet of the Apes on the television. Their mom and dad were silent and still as stone at their usual perch.

"You know, I love how the gorillas always have their mouths open. And their mouths aren't even in sync with their lines." Alan said, cocking an eyebrow at the screen.

Edgar glanced over, "Alan…it was made in _1970_, what d'ya expect?"

Alan shrugged, "Classic stuff?"

Edgar snorted, "_Outdated_ is more like it. It's the 80s, Bro. Graphics are _way_ better nowadays. I dunno why you're watching that old shit…"

Alan shook his head, shrugging his shoulders again, "Mom wanted to watch it." Edgar cocked an eyebrow, looked at Alan who was watching the two chimpanzees dressed in green have a conversation with the golden gorilla while the two humans hid behind a curtain. Then he looked at their mom who was leaned back in a hazy coma.

He shook his head and went back to his vampire comic.

"I haven't watched this series in a while…" Alan said, seemingly to the air. "I think the last time we watched this series together was…uh…"

"Alan!"

The Frog brothers' eyes jumped to the source of the voice. Alan looked from the movie, lifting his head from the cradle of his palm. Edgar looked up from his comic.

A girl with long, fluffy brown hair came running in. Tears were streaming down her face. "Melissa." Alan said in surprise, rising from the stool. Edgar looked at his brother. "What's wrong?"

"What the hell?" Edgar watched as Melissa kept up her pace and ran right behind the counter. She grabbed his brother by the arms, and he heard her Brooklyn accent. "Have ya seen Amy around in the past two days? _Please_ tell me ya have!"

Alan shook his head, "No. No, I haven't. Why? What's wrong?" He watched fresh tears well in Melissa's eyes and she let out a choked sob. She threw herself against Alan's chest and fisted the front of his sleeveless t-shirt in her hands and broke out crying.

Edgar watched his brother wrap his arms around the full-figured girl. "Jesus, Melissa. What's going on?"

Against his shirt, between her sobs, she answered, "It's Amy! She's gone _missing_! Her mom called me this morning! I've been lookin' all ovah for her all day! My gawd, the police think she's probably _dead_! Just like any other person who goes missing around heeyah! I know they're not doing anything the gawddamned chooches! What the fucking hell is wrong with this town?"

Alan tightened his arms around the girl, "Come on. Easy. Calm down." Edgar watched as the voluptuous girl growled and screamed and cried into his brother's chest. He watched her painted fingernails reach around his chest and grasp him tightly. He watched his brother start to stroke her hair, whispering calming words into her ear.

He felt his lower lip go taut and his fingers tighten, crinkling the comic book edges in his grasp.

* * *

Edgar walked silently into their bedroom. He undid the button and zipper of his jeans and shook his legs out of them. He yanked his shirt off by the collar with a growl in his throat, and he threw it harshly to the floor. He went to his bed and pulled off his socks so they landed in a crumpled heap at his bedside. He turned away when he heard his brother approaching their bedroom door.

He slipped under the comforter and shifted closely to the wall so he was just about pressed against it, and he slipped his right hand under his head. Then he dragged the comforter up to his shoulder with his left hand. He heard Alan enter the room and there was a pause in sound and movement as he was sure that his brother was looking at him.

He felt the gaze on his bare back. But then it was gone.

A moment later, he heard the rustling of clothing and dull flops as it hit the floor.

Edgar tried to ignore his sense of hearing. He kept his scowl focused on the wall in front of him. He heard the lamp behind him click off. Then he felt the comforter behind him lift up. He lowered his eyebrows, his lips pressed tightly together and he shut his eyes. He felt his brother slide into his bed behind him and settle down calmly.

"You've been awfully quiet." Alan said softly. Edgar felt his brother's hand lay upon his bare arm gently. Edgar moved his shoulder harshly forward to escape the touch. "What's wrong?" Alan questioned quietly.

"You know _damn_ well what's wrong." Edgar muttered.

He heard his brother let out a small breath, "No. I _don't_." Edgar felt his brother's hand upon him again. "If I did, I wouldn't be asking, now would I?"

Edgar grudgingly let his brother's hand smoothly caress up and down his arm. He ducked his chin lower and muttered, "You let that…Brooklyn _sewer_ _rat_ rub herself all over you."

There was a pause and Alan's hand stilled.

After a minute, Alan's hand started moving again. It caressed down off of his bent elbow and then started smoothing itself up and down Edgar's side and hip. "What was I supposed to do?" He asked quietly. "She just found out that her only friend,"

"You two seemed to be pretty fucking close…"

"her _best_ friend…went missing. And according to the whole vampire infestation going on in Santa Carla, most likely very _dead_."

Edgar felt Alan's right hand slither between his right side and the bed until it was caressing his stomach softly. He felt Alan's left hand move delicately across his hip bone to his navel. And then his fingers made their way slowly under the waistband of his boxers and wrapped themselves around his penis.

Edgar took in a deep, slow breath, his muscles tensing.

"She just moved here from New York. Three thousand miles away from any of her old friends. That Amy girl was her only _best_ friend here. So what was I supposed to do?" Alan murmured huskily into Edgar's ear.

Edgar let out a shuddering breath, feeling his brother's right hand gliding teasingly across his chest, and his brother's left hand efficiently stroking his penis that was slowly growing into a hard erection.

He felt his brother press his warm lips against the side of his neck. He breathed in deeply, feeling his brother's tongue travel wetly up his vein.

Edgar licked his lips and murmured, "Well…you didn't have…to…let her _maul_ you…" He whimpered at the pleasure hardening his arousal in his brother's hand. He heard his brother chuckle into his ear. He felt Alan's right hand start pushing his boxers down his hips until he had successfully shoved them down to the base of the bed with his foot.

Edgar endured the next few minutes, feeling that his brother's hand was moving agonizingly slow on his penis. His breath was patchy, goosebumps rising on his skin, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. His brother's right hand instead took a hold of his erection and started moving rhythmically. Edgar leaned his head back and moaned.

Edgar felt his brother nip at his jaw and he felt his brother's slicked fingers pressing into him. He pressed his lips together and breathed deeply through his nostrils. He gasped in a rugged breath through his lips when his brother's probing fingers quickly found that sensitive, sweet spot inside of him. His toes curled and he flinched with a loud cry. His right hand slipped from beneath his head and flattened out against the wall in front of him. His blood throbbed in his penis and the warm, familiar, scuttling bugs of pleasure scurried all around his stomach, nerve system and through his muscles and he let out a moan, writhing against his brother's fingers. He didn't care for five more minutes of his brother's _fingers_ scratching at his sensitive spot.

He groaned and turned his head, panting into the air. His left hand reached back and found the back of his brother's head, fisted his hair and yanked him down so their lips conjoined. Edgar pressed Alan's lips desperately to his and he gathered his lower lip into his mouth and bit it. He heard Alan shudder and felt him shiver.

"Fucking _do_ it." Edgar breathed.

Alan eagerly complied. His fingers left his Edgar's insides and his brother sighed at their exit, and his breath picked up zealously, waiting impatiently for what was coming. Alan grabbed the nook behind his brother's left knee and pulled it upward so Edgar's thigh was pressing against his chest.

Then he took hold of his own aching penis and guided it inside of his brother.

Edgar whimpered as Alan pushed into him. And Alan groaned. It felt like his stomach was empty and he felt like he would die if he didn't move. But he didn't want to hurt his brother by going too fast, no matter how turned on he was. So he grasped the nook behind his brother's knee again to ensure simpler access.

His plan to be as gentle as possible was put to a stop when his brother shifted downward, purposely impaling himself completely on Alan's erection. Edgar moaned, and Alan gasped. He pressed his face hard into Edgar's shoulder, "_Agh.._.God, Edgar."

All the thoughts to be as gentle as possible with his brother left him. He pulled back so that his arousal had nearly left his brother's insides, but then he thrust back into him. Edgar let out a grunting moan, "Oh _God_…" His blunt fingernails of his right hand clawed at the wall. He clenched his jaw, and squeezed his eyes shut as his brother slammed into him again, burying himself to the hilt.

His moaning sighs became almost in sync with Alan's thrusting.

Alan sucked at his brother's neck, nipped at his shoulder and breathed heavily in his ear. Edgar's left hand reached blindly back, and he grasped Alan's thigh, adding further pressure to his movement. He pressed his face into the pillow and cried out several times, the friction against his sweet spot driving him to pleasurable insanity. His muscles tensed _hard_ within him, the dizzying, blazing weight on him growing. Sweat was hot and slick between the two brothers.

Alan furrowed his eyebrows, tightening his grip on his brother's leg, letting out stifled groaning sighs.

Edgar reached back and grasped his brother by the hair again, dragging him down to kiss him hard. Alan plunged his tongue deeply into Edgar's mouth, tracing his brother's tongue and pallet. Edgar gasped desperately, and let out a distressed groan. The weight was so heavy upon him, he could hardly breathe.

Alan grunted, pressing his forehead hard against his brother's shoulder. Edgar turned his face into the pillow and yelled into it, all of his muscles knotting harder as he came in his brother's pumping right hand.

The heaviness in Edgar's body practically jumped off of him. He felt light as a feather and the blood in his veins coursed coolly through him. He whimpered in his panting and then cried out when he felt his brother's warm body fluid coat his insides and his hot, sighing breath against his neck. His brother's grip on his leg loosened and released it.

Alan licked his dry lips. His hair was damp with sweat. His chest heaved heavily. He released his brother's exhausted penis and caressed his palm across Edgar's stomach, slowly rubbing his still warm semen into his skin. Edgar panted, pressed his burning forehead against the cool wall. He groaned when he felt his brother pull himself out of him. Edgar's body relaxed further in Alan's arms as they lay still and panting together.

The two brothers woke up an hour or two later facing one another and their legs tangled together. Alan tightened his arms around his brother, gathering him closer to his chest. Edgar's knuckles were rested on either side of Alan's collarbone. He settled into the curve of his brother's nape, sleepily feeling Alan's hand stroking slowly up and down his spine.

One of Alan's hand moved to the back of Edgar's head and he tilted it back slightly. With hooded eyes, he looked down into his brother's content, tired eyes. He leaned in and pressed a lazy kiss to his brother's lips. Edgar's eyes sunk closed. When their lips parted, Edgar kept his eyes closed. He contently let his brother press him back into his chest. He heard him murmur into his hair, "You don't have to worry about any Brooklyn sewer rat, Bro."

Edgar snorted in his throat and smiled sleepily.

"I only want _you_."

Edgar opened his eyes. He looked up at his brother after a long moment. His brother's eyes were closed, and the movements of his hands upon his back were even slower and gentler. He closed his eyes again when Alan leaned in again and brushed his tongue drowsily against his.

"Nnh…_Alan_…" Edgar breathed out a slight moan. Alan opened his eyes at the small sound. He worked his tongue a bit harder against his brother's, feeling him breathily whimper against his mouth.

He felt Edgar's penis twitch against him. He reached down and grasped it between them. He tilted his head the other way, and massaged his tongue against his brother's taste buds roughly. He started moving his hand up and down his brother's shaft, pausing with every stroke to rub his thumb agonizingly slow over the tip of it.

Alan listened to Edgar's heavy breath and his small sighing whimpers. His brother's hands started to take his shoulders into their grasp. Alan slowly turned them over so Edgar was under him. He adjusted his left knee, bumping it against the wall. He trailed his lips down from Edgar's mouth to his neck and worshipped it with his tongue and teeth.

Edgar tilted his head the other way, letting his hands lay on either side of his head against the pillow. A whimpering sigh came from him as his brother gently lifted his legs by the nooks behind his knees. He grasped his brother around the waist with his knees and wrapped his arms around his neck, dragging him downward for another ardent kiss.

He sucked on Alan's lower lip and then laid his head back against the pillow when he felt his brother's erection pressing slowly into him. He grunted and sighed. He grasped his brother by the back of his hair, pulling him downward again. "Only me?" He whispered.

"Only you." Alan reassured and claimed his brother's lips.


	13. Bacon And Eggs

**Dear god, I got up Sunday at like 6:55 in the morning to join in the Sean's Run because my friends suckered me into doing the Battle of the Belts with them...I swear to the Herne, I got up, stumbled down the hallway mumbling "This Sean better have fucking been a homosexual. Cuz if this guy was some dumbass breeder who got in the car with no seatbelt...mumble mumble." **

**I got at the school and asked my friends and my counselor if he was a gay boy before I got out of my car, and they were like "No, I don't think so. He was straight." "He got drunk with a bunch of friends and got in the car knowing the driver was drunk and didn't wear a seatbelt and died in an accident." I was like "That's it, I'm goin' home." And started my car again...But nope. I still went. And won a plaque in the Battle of the Belts for Best Team Name which was 'We Da Belts'. And ran 3.5 miles for this tenth annual Sean's Run...and didn't come in dead last. I did it under 45 minutes. I got free bagels and bananas, and I also got kisses from lot's of dogs. And when I sprinted across that finish line, the announcer said my name, and people cheered, and I actually yelled "For my Frogcest Faaaaans!" as I went across the finish line. Then I went over to a shady area of grass and went "That's it, I'm dead." and I died...**

**Ya know, I had some trouble trying to figure out what I should write after these brothers had a long night of sex...wonderful, sweaty, hot sex...sorry I just drooled a little bit. But I came up with a good, short chapter that was decent, cute, and a little orgasmic. XDD**

**I hope you guys have been noticing that I've been using the word PENIS...hehe, I hope you're proud of me. But I don't use it too often. Like penis this, penis that. I'm just not that kind of dirty writer.**

**I will warn you, that the sex-sex-sex will tone down a bit after this chapter, but don't worry, it'll still be there. I just feel like it's time to get the story going again!**

* * *

Edgar opened his eyes. He closed them again, licked his lips and swallowed. He opened them again when he heard a distant noise, like a pot against the stove in the kitchen. Light was filling up the room. And god, something smelled good. His stomach gave and enthusiastic, interested gurgle. He was lying stretched out on his back with his arms above his head, with his sheets lying rumpled at his naked waist.

He stirred, and rolled onto his side. He reached his arms upward, stretching the sleep out of his muscles with a light groan. Then Edgar let out a sigh and laid his limbs back down to the mattress again. He opened his eyes again. Then he propped himself up on his elbow and rubbed at his eyes.

He checked his watch and saw that it was about noon. He brushed his hair back off of his forehead, and slid to the edge of the bed and sat up. He winced a little at the slight pain in his behind and pushed himself to his feet.

He turned around and fished his boxers from the folds of the blanket at the end of the bed. Then he pulled them on. He leaned down and picked his red and black checkered flannel off of the floor and walked out of the bedroom.

He went through the hallway and into the living room, fitting his arms through the sleeves. He continued on until he paused in the kitchen doorway.

"Hey, Bro."

Alan glanced over his shoulder. He offered Edgar a smile and turned back to the stove. He was fully dressed in his combat boots, pants, and sleeveless black shirt and dog tags. His army shirt was tossed over one of the pathetic chairs in front of the small table in the corner. He looked showered and awake.

Edgar asked, looking at the egg carton and the orange juice carton, and the butter package and a half empty sleeve of bacon scattered across the counter, "What're you doing?"

Alan snorted, "_Attempting_ to make a real breakfast." He went over to a cupboard and pulled out a plate. He wiped the dust off of it with the hem of his shirt and went back to the pan on the stove that sizzled with eggs and bacon.

Edgar laughed and went forward, "Where'd you get the bacon?"

Alan glanced at him and used a spatula to sweep the eggs and bacon onto the plate, "I went out this morning while you were still asleep." After he set the pan back onto the stove, and killed the flame, he took Edgar's wrist. Alan pulled Edgar closer and pressed the other hand to the back of his brother's head. He brought him closer, "You're not too sore, are you? From last night?"

Edgar breathed, "N-no."

Alan guided his brother's lips to his and kissed him. Edgar grasped Alan's hip with his free hand and sighed through his nostrils. Alan tilted Edgar's head the other way and angled his lips across his brother's again.

Edgar jerked his wrist free and his hands went around Alan's shoulders, his fingers entangling themselves into his brother's raven hair.

"Whoa, whoa." Alan said. He disentangled Edgar's fingers from his hair, "Easy, Bro."

Edgar panted quietly. Alan studied the lust in his brother's eyes, feeling Edgar's arousal pressing against him. "You're so eager."

"C-can't help it." Edgar breathed.

Alan smiled, let out a breath of air that sounded like a small laugh of disbelief. Then he reached downward. Edgar drew in a fast breath when his brother grasped his penis through his boxers. His hands slid quickly down from Alan's shoulders, down his chest and to his belt which he pulled loose. He made quick work of the button and zipper as Alan rubbed at his erection.

"No." Alan said as Edgar made to shove his brother's pants and boxers down. He pushed his brother's hands away. Edgar looked disappointedly into Alan's eyes. But then Alan turned him so his lower back was pressed to the edge of the counter. "Just hold still…I wanna try something."

He took either side of the waistband of Edgar's boxers and slowly pulled them down, at the same time sinking down to his knees. "Wait, what are you-?" Edgar stammered, squirming slightly in confusion.

Alan stilled Edgar's hips with firm but gentle hands. He looked up at him, "Just hold still."

"But,"

He gasped when his brother took his penis right into his mouth. He quickly grabbed the edges of the counter on either side of him, letting out a puff of breath. He closed his eyes, and bit his lip. His brother's hands on his hips kept him moderately still, but he couldn't help the tiny thrusts he made toward Alan's mouth every other minute or so. He leaned his head back and groaned.

Dear fucking God, his mouth was so warm and wet, and just…

He felt his brother's tongue as it flattened out and stroked all the way up from the base until he literally _sucked_ on the tip of it. Edgar leaned his head back, letting out a groan. The weight of pleasure dropped on his body like a ton of boulders all at once. His muscles tightened painfully. He felt Alan's fingers wrap around the base. He looked back down as his brother, and moaned, just as Alan'shead started bobbing up and down, the agonizingly pleasurable pull driving him right the the edge and off.

"_Jesus_…_CHRIST!_" Edgar yelled. He heard his brother gag as he came. He hung his head and whimpered as he panted, the muscle convulsions slowly becoming less frequent. Alan unsheathed Edgar's spent member from his mouth and looked up at his brother. Edgar opened his eyes and looked down at him with his eyebrows arching upward. There was white, slippery fluid on his lips and dribbled all down his chin.

Alan smiled and wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand, "That was quicker…and _easier_ than I thought." He reached down and pulled his zipper up, did up his button, and buckled his belt. "But I'm guessing that it was because you were already so…excited."

He got to his feet and gave a quick caress to the side of Edgar's neck. "Now eat your breakfast." He turned and left the kitchen, leaving Edgar standing there with his boxers around his ankles.


	14. Duck Sauce

**Hmm...let me catch you up. I went to prom wearing a black dress with black lace, a black velvet bodice with corsets on my sides and my back, and a big red velvet rosary cross on the front. I also wore a dying rose corsage with black ribbon that I made with my mom. I swear, on that dance floor in that Lake House...they were trying to kill us. It was SO hot...all the dancing, the adrenaline, the racing heartbeats, the sweat...it was like Hitler's gas chambers...It smelled like chlorine and I'm not talking like swimming pool water that smells like summer and feels good and clears up your skin. I'm talking BAD CAN'T FREAKIN BREATHE CHLORINE...**

**I yelled BURRITO in the middle of my chorus concert. ****I got my Driver's Ed certificate so now I can have my senior driver's license. I had a quickie on the forest floor beneath a canopy of leaves that tinted the sunlight green and the condom was blue haha. A bird pooped on the seat of my motorcycle. ****And I made a mad dash from the bathroom this morning bare-ass nakey to my room yelling DUN LOOK AT MEEEE! And then I realized that nobody was home once I was in my room...Hehe.**

******Well, I'd say that it has been some time since our favorite raven-haired brother gave our favorite headband-wearing brother a lovely blowjob early in the morning...**

******Sadly, there's not any kind of sex in this chapter...but don't worry. I'll take care to throw you guys a _bone_ soon...haha...I made a funny ^_^ Love you allz.**

* * *

Edgar shook his head to regain his composure, leaned down and yanked his boxers back up. He brushed his hair back, hardly able to register what his brother had just done for him. A shiver ran down his back when he thought of what Alan had looked like down upon his knees looking up at him. He drew his flannel closed and rubbed hard at his face to rid his mind of any more thoughts that could possibly arouse him again. He felt like he was overwhelming his brother with all of his own sexual…_endurance_…

He turned to the counter and found the bacon and eggs piled messily onto the plate. The bacon grease had dripped over the side of it and onto the counter. Edgar glanced at all of the items that lay forgotten on the counter beside his breakfast and gathered them up. He placed the neatly in the almost vacant refrigerator. He paused when the light bulb flickered. He frowned at it as it started flickering again with a small chorus of electrical crackles. He reached into the fridge and gave it a light flick. The light inside of the bulb righted itself and shined at its full capacity.

He gave a satisfied nod and closed the fridge door, mumbling, "Piece of shit…" He looked back to the counter and took up the glass of orange juice that his brother had poured for him and the plate. He took them over to the table and sat down. He picked up the fork and took a moment to look at the slippery eggs, and the slightly over-done egg with two pieces of curled up bacon flung across it; all lying in a small pool of bacon grease. He raised his eyebrows, _Huh…Mom never made bacon and eggs._

He used the edge of fork to slice up the eggs and delved into his memories as he chewed. He remembered as a young child he hadn't comprehended what his parents were doing. When he and Alan were young, he was pretty sure that they were more involved with their lives. But as they'd gotten older, Edgar started to notice the drugs and how his parents slowly became more and more mentally distant even though they stood right in front of them.

A year or two before the Frog brothers turned eight, they were already cooking their own Speghetti O's on the stove. They knew how to identify a heater return or the air inlet, and most of all the other pieces of a car engine with their father's old van that had broken down when they were twelve years old; and now just sat inside of their old shabby garage whose front door didn't even slide up anymore. They had learned to take care of themselves.

Edgar tried to think of the last time their mom had gotten out that old waffle iron and made waffles on a Sunday morning. He couldn't remember. He heaved a sigh and sucked the bacon grease from his thumb tip.

"Hey, come see what I found sitting on the side of the road when I went into town."

Edgar looked over his shoulder at his brother. Alan smiled, "I grabbed you some pants. I know how much of a prude you are." Edgar caught the pants that his brother threw at him and scowled. But Alan merely turned and left the kitchen laughing.

Edgar stood up from the chair and went over to the sink where he set his empty plate. He heard his brother call from outside the front door, "C'mon! Get out here!" Edgar grumbled and stepped into the pants that Alan had tossed him. As he walked out of the kitchen, he yanked the zipper up and buttoned them. In front of the door, he slipped his feet into his boots and laced them up.

He went out the front door and he was greeted with bright sunlight and a light breeze that opened his flannel up and blew it away from his chest. He glanced around the uncut lawn and frowned. _Gonna have to mow the freakin'..._

"Hey!"

Edgar turned and saw his brother waving at him from between the garage and the side of the house. "It's back here!"

Edgar rolled his eyes and followed after Alan, "Remind me exactly why Dad boarded up the backdoor?"

Alan looked over his shoulder as he led the way, "Uhhh…I think Mom was afraid of the bloated..._Wiccans_...who wanted to take her rosemary through the backdoor…Or something…"

Edgar asked, "What's a Wiccan?"

Alan shrugged, "I don't know. Some kind of figment of a fuzzy little weed conjured smoking scenario?" Edgar asked, "And no one bothered to tell her that there's no such thing as Wiccans?" Alan shrugged again but didn't respond.

Edgar grimaced at the sight of the tall grass of the backyard. On any other day he'd put it off, but he figured if Hollywood could film jungle scenes of Indiana Jones in his own backyard, then that's going too far. "We're gonna have to do some _major_ yardwork, Bro."

"We got some mechanical work to do too." Alan said.

Edgar turned and looked as his brother unlocked the regular sized door in the back of the garage with the key that he'd pulled from his pocket. He shoved open the door and stepped back, "It over there, next to the van."

Edgar cocked an eyebrow at his brother and stepped toward the door, "Don't tell me that you found an engine for that thing? Or are these new pieces for that awesome monster-bashing holy water balloon launcher we were talking about?" Alan shook his head, "Well, neither."

"Then what is…it?" Edgar paused when his eyes fell on it.

He looked back at Alan, "What is _that_?"

Alan smiled, "That would be a Harley."

Edgar looked back at it, "_That_ looks like a beat up piece of junk…Where the hell did you get this thing from?" He leaned down and tilted his head at the beat up looking pipes curling from the motor. He straightened back up and looked at Alan and slapped at his brother's arm. "Go back and steal a better one."

Alan snorted and walked over to the mistreated Harley. "I didn't steal it. It was on the side of the road with a cardboard sign that said 'If you can fix it, you can have it'. So I rolled it home…with your _bacon_ and _orange juice_."

Edgar blushed. He kept quiet for a moment with his brother's gaze down upon him, "Where did you get the idea…for…for…_that_…anyways?" Alan smiled at his brother's stammering. He turned toward the Harley and knelt down beside it, peeling off the crinkled tape that someone had pasted on it. "Saw a couple of boys down an alleyway this morning. Let's say that I got kind of _curious_..."

Edgar shook the thoughts from his head and quickly changed the subject, "Well…what does this hunk of junk need? New engine?"

Alan shook his head, "Actually the engine's fine."

"Huh?" Edgar asked. "If it was fine, then why would somebody drop it on the side of the road?"

Alan chuckled, "It had a loose supporter in the capline. And there was some oxidation in the tank that was clogging up the main gasline. I drained the fluid out and I've been letting it dry since this morning."

Edgar nodded, "Well then, I'll take a guess," He looked at the pipe that was hanging down off of the back of it and almost lying against the floor, "that it still has some work that needs to be done on it." Alan nodded, "Yeah, not much though. Definitely a paint job. We can fix it up." Edgar asked, "What are you gonna do with it after you fix it up?"

Alan looked up at Edgar, "I'm gonna ride it. What the hell did you think I was gonna do with it?"

Edgar shrugged, "Do the locomotion?"

Alan backhanded his brother in the thigh and Edgar recoiled, smirking at him. Alan got up from the floor and dusted off his hands, "Well that gas fluid is still drying. I'll run some cleaner fluid through it later on to get that rust out."

Edgar gave a nod. "Okay. Well I'm gonna go sharpen some stakes and dream of my holy water balloon launcher." Alan laughed as Edgar ducked out of the garage. Edgar shook his head as he heard his brother following and locking the door behind him. "I dream of wiping out the ugly-ass bloodsucking vampire race and you dream of coasting down the street on a _motorcycle_."

Alan snorted, "Oh shut up. I see that look of _longing_ in your eyes whenever we watch First Blood. C'mon Bro. Bikes are great. And aren't you tired of having to walk or ride our bikes…_everywhere_?" Edgar paused and glanced over his shoulder. He slapped his palms to his buttocks, "It keeps my ass _firm_ and my thighs _hard_." He gave his behind a little shake at his brother, who knew that he was fooling around, and walked on around to the front of the house.

He went inside and started toward their bedroom to find their whittling knife. "Edgar, forget whittling stakes!"

Edgar raised a brow and called from the living room, "What?"

Alan came into the room, "Dig out your trunks. We're going to the beach today." Edgar cocked an eyebrow at his brother, "The beach? All those civilians? Are you _kidding_ me? Sounds like _Hell_. We haven't gone to the beach since the beginning of the summer."

Alan shook his head at his brother, "Give me a break. If you ask me, I think you could use a little sun. You're looking a little pale. Like Dracula." Edgar quickly looked down to his wrist. He scowled at the lightness of his flesh.

Alan went past him, "See? Now help me find your trunks."

* * *

"I swear to God, I saw a broad making out with a _rat_…" Edgar said.

Alan shook his head, "_Civilians_…"

The two brothers walked their bikes into the comic shop. Mama Frog was at the register, giving a boy with a pale, bare skull and an earring his change. She smiled at him from behind her sunglasses, "Peace and love follow you." The boy squinted at her and then shook his head, walking past Edgar and Alan stuffing his change into his pocket, "_Hippie_…"

"You don't have any room to talk about her there, _Skinhead_." Edgar barked. The bald boy paused and looked back at Edgar with anger in his eyes. Alan joined his brother in the stony glare that the two had developed early in life due to constant teasing in school seeing as their classmates found their last name hilarious, or when their classmates had grown old enough to realize that their belief in vampires wasn't just pretend.

Alan squeezed his bike handle in his right hand, the skin tightening smoothly across his hard, scarred knuckles. Edgar clenched his wide jawbone, silently daring the guy to try something. But the bald boy's eyes lost their fire and he turned and slumped out of the shop.

Alan shook his head, and Edgar rubbed his knuckle under his nose with a small sniffle like he always had a habit of doing after chasing someone off without a fight. There was nothing that got their blood bubbling more than when other people decided that they had something to say about their parents. Both of them had tasted coppery anger and blinding rage when Darren Hallow had said that their parents were nothing but a couple of drug-addicts that scientists found washed up on the beach among the beer cans and roaches and that their parents shouldn't have been allowed to breed.

Alan shook his head again to clear his mind and followed after Edgar who had already walked his bike behind the counter. Their mom gave each of them a pat on the shoulder.

"Hey boys." She said. "Thank you for not fighting in front of me."

"Hey Mom." They answered. Alan asked, "Where's Dad?" She adjusted her sunglasses, "He went to the store." Edgar and Alan shared a glance. They both knew that he'd gone off to buy up some more of the _organic_ stuff. Edgar glanced under the counter and saw that the designated natural jar that had been filled with coins the previous night was now empty.

Edgar shook his head and tilted his bike to lean under the counter. "It's a wonder me and Alan weren't born potheads." Both Alan and Mama Frog raised their eyebrows. Edgar reached up and pinched at the brim of his nose. _Every time the jar fills up… _

"Edgar, please, let's not start this again." Mama Frog said. "Please."

Alan put up his hands, "Don't worry, Ma. Me and Edgar were going to the beach anyways. C'mon, Bro." He turned and walked from the shop. Edgar glared down at the floor for a few moments. Then he cast an apologetic look at his mom. As much as he knew that the life that all four of the Frogs led wasn't normal, he hated to see his mom upset. She took off her sunglasses and rubbed at her eyes.

Then her eyes focused on Edgar. He felt like those light brown orbs hadn't really focused on him in such a long time. She smiled, "I'm glad you two are going to the beach. You look a little pale. You could use some color." Edgar jumped slightly and scowled, "I am _not_ pale." Mama Frog covered her lips with his long, slender fingers, finding the scowl on her son's face absolutely comical.

"C'mon, Edgar!" Alan called from outside.

Mama Frog smiled and slipped her sunglasses back on, "Go on. Go outside and play." She gave him a push and Edgar followed after his brother.

Once he caught up with Alan, his brother commented, "You've gotten nastier since Sammy showed up you know." Edgar snorted, "Oh so it's Sammy's fault?" Alan shrugged, "Maybe it is. You tell me."

There was a slight pause as the two brothers weaved through the people who were laughing, frolicking and playing the many sorts of carnival games, blowing all of the spare change they had gathered up from between the couch cushions in their homes. Then Edgar sighed. "I guess it's been a while since we were the Frog _family_…not just the Frog brothers. Sammy's got a family. Guess I just…"

Alan sighed lightly and offered his brother a smile. He gave him a light punch in the arm. Edgar looked back at him. Alan said, "Come on. You were _laughing_ about it last night. And we did the _payments_ last night." Edgar rolled his eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a smile.

"Hey! Alan! Edgar!"

Edgar paused, _If it's that Melissa sewer rat, I swear I will rip off her tits, shove them down her throat, shove a stake up her skirt and make her sing I Wanna Hold Your Hand..._

"Guys! Wait up!"

"Hey, Sammy!"

_Oh thank God…_

It was Sam. He came to walk beside Edgar with a bright, excited smile, and spiked up hair. He was wearing a flashy shirt with purple stick people and beige swim trunks with wavy ribbons of green wrapping around the legs. Edgar rolled his eyes. "Nice shirt, Sammy."

Sam smiled, "Hey thanks, I got it,"

"He wasn't serious, Sam." Alan said.

"Oh…" Sam mumbled, looking a little downhearted. "Well…what's going on? How come you guys aren't in the shop? I was just heading over there to see you guys."

"We decided to spend a few hours at the beach getting sunburnt with the rest of you." Alan snorted. Sam blinked, "You guys tan?" Edgar and Alan looked at Sam. Edgar scratched at his chin, "Well," They started down the stairs to the sand. He gestured around, "If you mean tan like lying down on a towel wearing skimpy bathing suits…then no. We're _just_ going for a swim." They started walking across the sand, weaving between people lying on beach towels and running around.

Sam laughed, "The Frog brothers, hanging out on the beach with me. That's a,"

Edgar rolled his eyes, "What are you even doing out here?"

"I came with my Mom to work. And she let me take off." Sam smirked and looked over his shoulder the behind of tall blonde that had just passed by chattering with her brunette friend. Alan and Edgar looked at one another. They both grabbed Sam by the arms and shoved him down into the sand.

"_Ow_! Hey!"

* * *

Alan laughed and plopped down on his side in the sand, his dogtags clinking against his wet chest. He brushed the salt water from his eyes and shook out his wet hair. Sam flinched from where he was lying on his back beside him, "Oh come on man!" Edgar walked over and ruffled his hair with his hands over Sam.

"Oh God! Come on!" Sam yelled, raising his arms and legs to cover himself.

Edgar laughed, "You're such a pansy."

Sam laid out his limbs, "I am _not_." Edgar nodded his head, "Yeah you are." He reached up and squeezed the cloth of his headband and water trickled down from it. Sam groaned as Edgar flicked water down on him. Then he gave in, "I'm a _hungry_ pansy." Edgar looked down at Alan and brushed a droplet of salt water out of his eye. "Yeah. I'm kinda gettin' hungry too. You want a hotdog?"

Alan nodded, "Damn right I want a hotdog." The side of his lip twitched a little and Edgar's eyes widened slightly. Sam sat up, "I could go for a hotdog." Edgar shook his head at Alan. Then he looked down at Sammy. "You got any cash? I'm not paying for three of them." Sammy laid back down, "There's some cash in my shirt pocket."

Edgar leaned down and picked up Sam's shirt, "Well this explains why you wouldn't join us in the water." He picked out the folded bills from Sam's shirt pocket. He tapped at his temple with a finger, "Congratulations Sammy, you've become street smart." He looked at Alan, "Now if only we could get him to believe in vampires." He rolled his eyes with a shake of his head and went back toward the steps up to the Boardwalk after dropping Sam's shirt right on his face.

Sam swiped his shirt from his face and looked over at Edgar, "Yeah, I used to believe in Santa Claus too, Edgar!" Alan shook his head and laid back, "Ohhh, ignorance must be bliss."

Sam laid his head back down, "Whatever you say, Alan." They listened to the thousands of noises of the beach all around them for a few minutes.

Alan broke the silence. He propped himself up on one elbow and asked, "So, why else didn't you go for a swim?" Sam lowered his eyebrows and lifted his head, "What? I wasn't gonna leave my shirt here unless one of us was on the beach."

Alan shrugged, "Okay then. Go take a swim. You're sweating."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Be right back." Alan moved aside as Sam jumped to his feet and ran down the beach, calling out triumphantly. Alan shook his head and picked at the sand grains between his fingernails. He glanced down the beach after a few minutes and saw Sam's head pop up out of the water and start making its way back toward the shoreline.

Alan reached up and ruffled his wet hair. Two teenaged girls, one with long red hair and the other with short black hair, walked by and sent a smile and a wink down at Alan. Alan smiled back at them and went back to picking grains of sand from between his fingernails.

"Why do girls always…_always_…pay attention to _you_?" Sam asked as he plopped down in the sand beside Alan, soaking wet.

Alan shrugged and laid a hand on his stomach, "My sexy eight pack." Sam shook his head, "You don't have an eight pack…" Alan cocked a skeptical eyebrow at Sam and narrowed one of his scrutinizing eyes. "It's only a six pack..." Sam said sheepishly.

Alan watched as his lips curled slightly. Then Sam drew up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. Alan smiled at Sam's discomfort in his own body.

"Oh please, Sammy. Get over your odd body issues." Alan snorted. He laid back on the sand, "_Oh_ and for the record. It _is_ an eight pack. I counted." He closed his eyes and prodded his proudly flexing abs with his index finger. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. _Eight_."

"Oh for God's sake that's just…weird…" Sam said. Alan opened his eyes and looked at Sam, "Huh?" Sam nodded his head toward the shoreline of the beach. Alan turned and looked.

There were two boys, both brunettes, sitting beside one another, seemingly just talking while eating a sandwich with a towel spread out under them and then another one over them. No one else would notice. Even Alan and Sam wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the angle that all four of them were sitting. But under the towel, between the two boys, their fingers were entwined. The big one's thumb was slowly caressing the flesh of the smaller one's palm.

Alan cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head. From behind, the boy on the left, the smaller one, looked suspiciously like Darren Hallow. He lowered his eyebrows and shook his head, "Wait, _what_?" He looked back at Sam.

Sam shook his head and frowned, "It's just…" He gestured at the boys with a damp palm that the beach sand clung to.

The two were already squinting against the bright sunlight, but Alan narrowed his eyes further at Sam. He opened his eyes a bit more again and then said, "Sammy…you have…posters of half naked guys tacked up all around your bedroom…"

"I got that poster with the girls too!" Sam cried out. Alan rolled his eyes, "That chick band that very few straight boys enjoy listening to." Sam shook his head, scrambling for something to say.

"You also probably use more hair styling…wet stuff than most girls do…" Alan said, looking at Sam's wet blonde hair that clung to his head. Then he shook his head, "What's the big deal? Didn't you see Kiss of The Spider Woman? What about that big march on Washington for gay and lesbian rights?"

Sam opened his mouth and words came spilling out in his attempt to remove the spotlight from himself. "Since when did you have such a tolerance for fags? You and Edgar really don't strike me the type of guys to support two guys holding hands and frenching and stuff. You and Edgar are nothing like me and Mike. I've never even seen you guys hug or anything like that. It's like you're both too manly for that."

Alan scoffed loudly and obnoxiously, "What are you kidding me? We fuck _all_ the time!"

"Alan!"

Alan leaned his head back and looked up at his flabbergasted, wide-eyed brother who had three hotdogs in his hands, his fingers shaking and crinkling the foil around the hotdogs. Alan smiled and gave a laugh.

He heard Sam chuckle, and then start laughing, "I highly doubt that. Like I said, entirely too Rambo obsessed to even brush _elbows_." Alan looked to Sam who was shaking his head with an amused smiled. He reached up and ruffled his wilted, blonde hair.

Edgar took a moment to flop down in the sand next to Sam and his brother. He grumbled, passing Alan a hotdog, "I can't believe you fuckin' said that…you creep." Alan took the hotdog with mustard and relish, no ketchup, just like he liked it. He smiled, noticing for the first time that his brother remembered his favored condiments for a hotdog, and how insanely hilarious he found his little pout when he was griping.

Edgar gave Sam an empty hotdog. "I didn't know what you liked. He leaned back and dug in his pocket, and then dumped a handful of little condiment packets into Sam's bewildered hands. "So I grabbed everything."

Alan said through a bite of his hotdog, "Look at that. Wasn't that nice of him, Sam?"

"Why is there duck sauce here?" Sam picked up the packet of golden sauce, with a concerned, cocked eyebrow.

Edgar looked to his own hotdog, loaded with ketchup and chili sauce, and spoke before shoveling a bite into his mouth, "Chinese food cart. They're made from dog. Just like in China. Enjoy." The two Frog brothers looked to their cheap, most likely very unhealthy meal, silently laughing to themselves, and mentally nudging each other's' elbows as their Arizonian companion stared with arched, frightened eyebrows at the tube of meat on a bun, cradled in a patch of foil.


	15. Me And You

**Hello my lovely Frogcest lovers. I am writing this author's not at currently 4:07am. That marriage equality bill was accepted 33-29 votes at like 10 o'clock or something so I think half of New York is getting married haha. I'm very happy about that. I mean I myself don't care very much for marriage or having kids because I'm 17...and uhm I've seen The Miracle of Childbirth in health class and I'm afraid for my pussy...**

**Hehe, anyways, for the past week I've been giving my Oxygen fans chapters because I hadn't updated for them in 2 months. I was thinking about Clandestine often, but I wasn't sure what I was going to write for the 15th chapter. I was waiting for inspiration to strike me. And what do you know? It did. While I was on my 2.8 mile walk today which is mostly uphill. XDD By the way my thighs and my calves KILL right now. I was lost in my thoughts, and fingerspelling(sign language) as I walked like I usually do because my iPod is in the graveyard. I knew I had to have a reaction from Edgar because of what Alan did in the last chapter. But I hadn't been sure how to do it so it was a bit shocking, a bit fresh, and bled right into my storyline. **

**And voila! This was born. I know it's a little short, but I assure you it's a bit more interesting than a simple filler chapter in which our favorite brothers just argue. **

**A little shoutout to: **

**demetrifever = I ate a poptart tonight...and it tasted so rambo...**

**jazzy-b = I'm glad you like how Alan is the dominant brother. I like that too. Oh and appreciate the pointing out of my errors. I'll get on them when I can.**

**echohellfire = Okay, when I read your comment that started with 'Sqeeee!' I instantly thought of Peepi the hamster from Invader Zim...which is like my favorite show...you are beast...**

**whothefuck = I miss you Tay and I hope I hear from you again soon!**

* * *

"I still can't, agh! Hahh…can't believe you…uhnn…_god_…s-said that."

"Said what?" Alan grunted before claiming his brother's lips in a heated kiss. He tilted his head and nipped at his brother's lower lip. Edgar let out a long moan. Alan adjusted his hands on the couch as he panted. Edgar's knees hugged his brother's waist tighter, his thigh muscles tensing.

Edgar tightened his grasp the arm of the couch over his head with a small shout. "Ah! Hahhh…what…you, hrn! Uh, ah…s-said to, agh! Sa…mmy!"

Alan felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face and he chuckled, thrusting a bit harder. "You're still mad about the…other day?" His brother squeezed his eyes shut and cried out, "YES!" Alan smirked, "Now _that_ sounded sexy."

Edgar leaned his head back, "Ahhh, sh-shut up." Alan leaned down and kissed the vein throbbing in his brother's neck. Edgar released the arm of the couch and encircled his arms around Alan's neck. He groaned, "Ahh, yo-ou shouldn't…" He sucked in a gasp as his brother ground against that special spot inside of him, "Shouldn't! Hahh, my _god_…have said th-tha-AH!"

"Sammy knew it was," Alan grunted, "a joke."

Edgar gasped, "You still shouldn't,"

Alan pressed a hard kiss to Edgar's lips, quieting him. A moan rumbled in Edgar's throat. Alan drew his brother's tongue into his mouth, and sucked thoroughly on it. Edgar gasped and pulled his tongue loose. He ducked his head and sunk his teeth into Alan's neck.

"AH!" Alan yelled with a jump. He closed his eyes and starting driving harder into his brother. Edgar cried out against Alan's neck. His jaw slackened and he fell back against the couch arm. He slipped his hands under Alan's arms and grasped the tensed muscles of his brother's back.

Edgar gave a loud moaning cry, and continued making pleasured, desperate noise as his brother pressed him harder and harder into the arm of the couch. His fingertips dug hard into Alan's back.

"Uh! _Please! Alan…please!_" Edgar cried out, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. His muscles tensed harder, making his entire body tremble. "_Please Alan!_" The end of his cry marked the end of the built up pleasurable pain. The dams broke as Edgar uttered his brother's name with his last plea, splashing their stomachs with semen. And for the first time, Alan was less than a second behind him. He pressed his forehead into Edgar's shoulder, grunting as he let loose.

Edgar clutched at his collapsed brother, whimpering until the convulsions managed to stop plaguing him. He listened to the sound of him and Alan panting hard with exhaustion as they came down from the miraculous high.

Alan drew in a deep breath against Edgar's sweaty collarbone and leaned back slightly. He pressed his lips to Edgar's sighing through his nostrils. He gently brushed his tongue over his brother's and traced his taste buds with long, prolonged, exhausted interest.

Then Alan pushed himself up a bit off of Edgar and pulled himself from his brother's insides, making Edgar grunt and sigh. Alan let Edgar's legs down and they fell, almost boneless, to the couch cushion. And then he laid himself contently down on his brother, wrapping his arms around him, and settling his head against Edgar's collarbone.

Edgar laid limply with his eyes closed for several minutes until he could muster the strength to open his eyes. The first thing he saw was thick, crimson fluid rolling down his brother's sides. "Good god, I made you…_bleed_."

Alan chuckled quietly against Edgar's neck, keeping his eyes closed. He murmured, "It must've been _that_ good." Edgar shook his head, blushing and trying to sit up, "Oh shut up ya idiot. Er you okay?" Alan scoffed, "Fine, Edgar. They're just pleasuuure _marks_." He laughed quietly against Edgar's neck.

"Really. 'Cause I think I can see uh, fat tissue." Edgar said, looking at the wounds he'd made into his brother's back.

Alan snorted and said, "There is no fat tissue in my back, _Sir_."

Edgar shook his head, "You're bleeding _all_ over me."

Alan shrugged lightly, "You came _all_ over me."

Edgar groaned, "_Fine_." He wiggled out of his brother's grasp and fell off the couch. He grunted and got up off of the floor. He bumped his knee on the coffee table, making the empty beer bottles shudder and some fall over. "Ow." He grumbled.

"Ha ha, hey," Alan laughed. "where're you goin'?"

"To take a shower." Edgar spat, stumbling out of the living room. Alan smiled and pushed himself up off of the couch.

Edgar jumped when he felt his brother's arms wrap around him from behind before he got to the bathroom door. _Holy shit you're quick._

"Wouldn't you rather take a bath?" Alan murmured into his brother's ear.

The corner of Edgar's lips upturned slightly, "Thought you were too manly for baths…" Alan kissed the side of Edgar's neck and answered, "Well, right now I have a grievous wound and the water spraying from the shower head at such an angle and trajectory would irritate it, and hurt me."

Edgar chuckled, and said, "Wouldn't want you to irritate…no…uh hurt now would we?" Alan shook his head and pushed Edgar down the remainder of the hallway and into the bathroom, "No we would not." He let go of Edgar and flipped on the faucet to fill the tub. Edgar touched the cuts on Alan's back making him shy away slightly at the sting. Alan stood up and looked at Edgar who murmured, "I'm sorry." Alan scoffed, "Don't be. Come on."

He sat in the warm, steamy water and pulled Edgar down to lean back against him. Once the tub was filled, Alan shut off the faucet with his foot.

The two brothers sat there in silence, gently washing the semen and sweat from each other's' bodies. Edgar gingerly cleaned the blood from Alan's back and then Alan made him lie back against his chest, wrapping his arms firmly around him. Things were even more silent as the steam rose from the water around the brothers. Edgar was gently stroking the back of Alan's hand with his thumb when he asked, "Do you think…what we're doing is wrong?"

Alan opened his eyes. He pressed his lips to the back of his brother's head and asked against his hair, "Does it feel wrong to you?"

Edgar shook his head, "Don't…answer me with a question. I'm too…out of it for a conversation parade. Just tell me…is what we're doing…wrong?"

Alan licked his lips, "Okay then. Fine. It's incest so hell _yes_ what we're doing is wrong. It is illegal and a form of social _taboo_." He reached up and brushed his knuckles across his nostrils. "There. That truthful enough for you?"

Edgar stayed quiet, staring at the steamy bathwater with tears brimming his eyes.

Alan reached down into the water and grasped his brother's penis. Edgar jumped, "_Alan_." Alan murmured into his ear, "But now I have a question for you, Edgar. How can something this wrong…feel so fucking right?" His hand moved gently up and down Edgar's shaft. Alan murmured, "I don't give a shit about whether or not this is considered _wrong_. I don't care what the state of California has to say about it, what other people have to say about it, what Sammy has to say about it. None of that matters. It's none of their fucking business. Do you understand me, Edgar?"

Edgar turned his head, the tears falling down the sides of his face. He looked into his brother's dark eyes and saw the relaxed seriousness in them. Alan brushed the tears with his free hand, just making Edgar's cheek even more wet. "Do you understand me, Bro?"

Edgar swallowed and then gently nodded.

Alan smiled lightly, and pressed a kiss to his brother's lips. He brushed his fingers through Edgar's hair. He murmured, "The only thing that matters is me and you. Just _me_…and _you_. Okay?" Edgar nodded again. Alan nodded back and kissed him again.

Edgar jumped with a small gasp. Alan smirked, cocking an eyebrow down at Edgar's hardening erection, "Looks like you're up for another round." Edgar scoffed, "I'm gonna wake up with a big head tomorrow, might as well have a sore ass to go with it."

"Just like riding a bike, it keeps your thighs hard and your,"

"Shut up." Edgar said and turned over in the bath so he was straddling his brother. Alan laughed against Edgar's lips, "Eddie taking control, huh?" Edgar shook his head, "What did I just say?"

Alan chuckled, "You said shut up."

Edgar shook his head, and sat right down on Alan's length. Alan's stomach muscles clenched, "_Holy shit…_" Edgar let out a long, harsh breath as if he'd been holding it, and grunted in pain. Alan dragged Edgar downward and kissed him. His hands wrapped themselves around his hips and guided them slowly up and down.

Edgar squeezed his eyes shut, and groaned. He placed his palms on Alan's chest and shuddered. Then he became to lift and lower himself on his own, encouraged by Alan's meeting thrusts.

"Just me and…you, Bro?" Edgar grunted.

Alan brushed his fingertips up his brother's arms, "Just me and you."


	16. Garlic Tshirt

**Good morning all! It is 5:52am. I have been up since 3pm yesterday! I daresay, I am slipping back into my vampire lifestyle again just like last summer! Terribly sorry that I've been late. I forgot to mention in my author's note in the last scrumptious chapter that I would be going on vacation and wouldn't have interweb access seeing as I was going camping! I feel bad for forgetting to tell you but I hope an update will cheer you up. **

**My vacation consisted of sleeping on an air mattress in a sleeping bag, trudging up a trail in the woods to reach the outhouse when my kidneys got so swollen that I would wake up too early and by the time I got back to the campsite I was awake haha, singing while I kayaked, getting called a mermaid by this incredibly sexy boy my age named Meir whom I'm still talking to via interweb and I still want his assmeats XDD, getting even more tanned so now my tanlines have tanlines and I look like a fucked up camo skinned Native American-Italian, swimming and blowing bubbles at fishies who thought it would be funny to nibble on my toes, playing guitar, and reading and writing while sitting around the campfire. **

**I am grateful to be reunited with running water, a refridgerator, my laptop and most of all...my loofah...OH LOOFAH I LOVE YOU! I'LL NEVER LET A SOAPY WASHCLOTH COME BETWEEN US AGAIN!**

* * *

A loud, deep horn that had to belong to a huge, passing semi suddenly blared.

It made Alan's eyes instantly fly open, and he immediately regretted it when bright, sickening light pierced his pupils. He jumped when an arm sailed over him and slapped at the alarm clock on the nightstand that wasn't even plugged into the wall.

Alan glanced down at his brother's thick mane of hair where it lay just upon his breastbone. Then he reached up and rubbed tiredly at his sensitive eyes with his right hand that felt numb and cold since it had been hanging off his head.

The arm that Edgar had slung over Alan's shoulder to attack the alarm clock lifted from the nightstand. Then Alan felt his brother grasp the pillow that his head was rested back against. Quicker that Alan's achy head could manage to comprehend, Edgar yanked the pillow out from under him.

His head heavily hit the mattress and he grunted, then groaned, pressing his hand to his forehead. "Ugh." He rubbed at his right temple to still the shaking room that had been caused by the sudden impact of the mattress. Then he gingerly ran his fingertips over his eyelids, "Thanks for that."

He looked down as he heard his brother speak. But his voice was muffled because Edgar had taken Alan's pillow and placed it firmly over his own head.

Alan moved his left hand that had been lying upon his brother's bare shoulder blade. He pulled the pillow off of Edgar's head and tucked it back under his own head, earning him a groan from his brother.

"What'd you say?" Alan asked, delicately stroking his forehead, trying to ease the pounding.

Edgar slowly shifted his head, and settled his chin on Alan's sternum. His eyes were still closed, but he still looked just like Alan felt. Alan saw the drool on his brother's chin and could feel it on his chest. He didn't blame him though as he brushed some thick saliva off of his own cheek.

Edgar grumbled, "I feel like…a _mountain_ fell on me." He opened his eyes and squinted up at Alan before squeezing them shut again against the light.

Alan smoothed his hand up his brother's spine, "It did…"

"Yeah…In the shape of a big fat twelve pack…" Edgar grunted.

Alan flung his right arm over his eyes, grateful for the darkness and the slight pressure that his arm gave, easing the tension slightly in his skull. "Whose idea was it to have a little party again…?"

Edgar turned his head so his cheek was lying against his brother's chest again, "_You_ picked up the pack…"Alan lifted his arm from his eyes with a deep breath. He brushed the fingers of his right hand through his brother's hair. Edgar sighed with a groan rumbling in his throat.

"Yeah," Alan said. "Was it worth it?"

Edgar smacked his lips, "Not right now. My mouth tastes like shit."

Alan chuckled, closing his eyes, "You'd know what that tastes like."

Edgar's reply was a hard slap to Alan's collarbone where his left hand was settled. Alan chuckled again, keeping himself from laughing, knowing that it would most likely cause a cranial earthquake.

The two brothers quieted where they lay. The only movement there was for a while was Alan's hand gliding smoothly up and down Edgar's spine. That was until Alan felt around for Edgar's hand, grabbed it and raised it up to his eyes to read his brother's watch.

"It's 12:30." Alan said, letting Edgar's hand back down.

Edgar drew in a breath and let out a sigh, "I don't want to get up."

Alan smiled lightly, closing one eye at the pain in his head. It felt like his head had gained about ten more pounds. Then he slowly began to sit up, _very_ slowly.

"_Nooooo_…" Edgar protested.

"C'mon, Eddie, get off of me." Alan purred, shifting his brother off of him and to the side. He ignored Edgar's agitated moan and the slap that landed on his side. Alan reached his arms upward, and then grimaced, feeling the scabs on his back stretch, crack and seep. "Shit," he mumbled, lowering his arms. He looked down at his brother who had yanked the pillow over his head. "Did you _have_ to claw up my back? Your nails longer? Are you vamping out on me, Bro?"

Edgar snorted under the pillow and Alan heard his voice muffle out, "Didn't seem to bother you last night." Alan cocked an eyebrow, "I was also drunk off of my ass,"

"And horny."

"and horny. Speaking of that," Alan said, reaching down to touch Edgar's erection.

Edgar flinched, his abs clenching. He threw the pillow from his head, grabbed his brother's wrist and looked up at him. "It's _morning_." Alan chuckled, "Oh, so that excuse works for _you_."

"Stop, Alan," Edgar groaned, trying to push Alan's hand away from his hardening arousal. But Alan kept stroking his hand firmly up and down his brother's penis, making Edgar groan lowly.

"Alan," Edgar bit his lip to stifle another groan. Alan smirked and leaned down, "Why do you want me to stop?"

Edgar opened his weary, pleasure-drunk eyes, "I…I don't think, hah…I-I can have sex…right now…I-I'm sore…" Alan frowned but kept pumping his brother's shaft. He didn't care that his breath, and his brother's were bad, so he leaned down and kissed Edgar gently.

"I'm sorry, Edgar," Alan whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you last night." He pulled away from his brother's lips. Edgar sighed, his eyebrows arching upward, "It's okay, Bro. I, _uhn_, the pain…the pain is half of it."

Alan's brow raised and couldn't help the blood that rushed angrily into his own prick at what his brother had said. He wasn't going to ask Edgar to do anything about it right now. If Edgar felt as hung over as he, himself did, it would be best if they didn't thrash around all that much. It would merely make them both feel worse in their swollen heads and nauseous stomachs. But the least he could do was get his brother off well to make up for the soreness he had cause in Edgar's rear, then drag his own ass out of bed and fetch some Tylenol and some icy water for the both of them.

Edgar whimpered and grasped the bed sheets. He forced his eyes open and looked down to where his brother was stroking his grip up and down his length. Alan always did so much to please him, Edgar felt like he had to do something for his brother now. So he let the sheets loose from his right hand and brushed his palm down Alan's chest. Then he gathered his brother's erection, _hard_.

"Shit!" Alan cried, suddenly jumping off of the bed. He threw himself out of their bedroom, leaving Edgar wide-eyed and confused. Then he heard his brother gag and heave down the hallway in the bathroom.

"Shit!" Edgar quickly dragged himself from the bed sheets. He grabbed his head as he rushed from the room, down the hallway and into the bathroom. His brother was clinging to the toilet seat. Alan groaned and heaved again. Edgar heard more vomit splash into the toilet bowl.

He hastily stepped over Alan's leg and reached around his brother's bent head. He cupped Alan's forehead in his palms as he continued to gag and heave.

He did his best to ignore his throbbing headache so he wouldn't end up puking as well. The headache combined with the smell of the lining of his brother's stomach splashing into the toilet, which of course smelled even worse because of the bitch of a hangover that he had, sadly made his efforts fail.

He held onto Alan's forehead as long as he could before vomit made its way up his neck. He swiftly released his brother's forehead and turned, grabbing onto the sink. Tears sprung to his eyes as his gag reflex was stressed. He settled his elbows on the counter, brushing his hair back with his trembling fingers.

Edgar spit in the sink when his stomach had emptied itself out of his mouth. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see what his dinner, and six bottles of beer looked like. He blindly turned on the faucet to clear out the sink and wiped his mouth off on his wrist. Then he turned and slowly sunk down to the floor and settled on his side. Alan had one arm still draped over the toilet, but he was sitting leaned against the wall. He looked at Edgar as they panted, trying to gain their breath back.

"Okay," he said.

Edgar looked over at him.

Alan's open, panting mouth upturned at one corner, "So we can't toss'em back like Burt Reynolds."

Edgar smiled, his chest still heaving, "Lesson learned." Alan nodded, "I think I coughed up my liver."

Edgar snorted, "I'm not sure if I'm missing my spleen or not. I didn't wanna look." Alan chuckled, moving his feet to lightly push against his brother thigh, "Sorry about that, Bro. This has gotta be the hugest turn off ever." Edgar shook his head. He thought he was mad about that? "Give me a break. Shut up and go get me some Tylenol. I got one shitty headache." Alan chuckled, "Yes, dear." Edgar shook his head as his brother dragged himself to his feet and left the bathroom, flushing the toilet as he went.

Edgar sighed and turned onto his stomach. He pushed himself up to his knees and gingerly got to his feet, wincing at the agitated soreness in his behind. He limped from the bathroom and braced a hand on the wall as he went down the hallway.

Alan met him in the doorway to the living room. He pressed two Tylenol into his hand and gave him a glass of water. The two of them chased the pills with the icy water.

Edgar heaved a sigh, "I need a cold shower." Alan grimaced, "Right behind you."

Back in the bathroom, Edgar turned on the shower and Alan turned off the sink faucet. Edgar shivered as he stepped under the spray. Alan followed him in and pulled the shower curtain closed.

Edgar lifted his face to the cold water with his eyes closed. He felt Alan running the soap bar over his back and shoulders. So he washed his long hair in silence and turned to wash Alan's back for him as he washed his hair. He grimaced at the sensitive, red gashes that he had dug into his brother's back the previous night. He carefully soaped Alan's back, wary of the wounds.

Alan looked over his shoulder, "Does it look that bad?" He added a thanks when Edgar passed him the bar of soap to run over his chest. He gently ran his hands over Alan's back, spreading the suds. He licked his lips, "Well it's not pretty. I'm sorry."

Alan snorted, "Oh please, let it go. It was as good for me as it was for you." Edgar couldn't help the amused smile. "Plus, if Sammy sees them, he'll worship me even more than he does." Alan laughed.

Edgar shook his head, smiling and blinking water from his eye, "You're terrible." Alan nodded and turned, setting down the soap. He leaned close to Edgar so he was beneath the shower of cold water as well. Edgar swallowed, watching the soap bubbles trail down his brother's body.

"How many times did we do it last night?" Alan asked, brushing the suds from his hair. Edgar thought hard and recalled his intoxicated memories from the night before. "The…first time was on the couch…" Alan nodded, stepping and leaning yet closer, cramping Edgar against the wall of the shower. "Yeah, that was pretty rough." He brushed his lips over Edgar's, bringing his hands up to rest on the wall on either side of Edgar's head.

"Second time was here in the bathroom. That was pretty intense too." Alan said, brushing his tongue across his brother's lower lip, causing Edgar to open his mouth to allow his brother's tongue to slip inside and brush and mingle with his tongue.

"Th…hah…third time was in the kitchen." Edgar murmured, reaching around his brother's neck. "Against the…counter."

Alan smiled, "Oh yeah. I was wondering why there was half a pan of spinach and burger in the kitchen. It's a mess in there."

Edgar nodded, remembering how after he and Alan had finished their intimate bath, he had said that he was hungry. Alan had said that he was too so they picked through the groceries in the fridge that they had filled that day. Alan had tossed burger meat into a pan and casually added cheese and spinach, joking about Popeye the Sailor Man. Together they'd eaten right at the counter off of a couple of old plastic plates. That was until they'd ended up going at it again for a reason that Edgar couldn't quite recall now. He was pretty sure that it started with him licking Alan's lip because it had juice on it or something.

"Fourth time was in my bed right?" Alan asked. Edgar nodded, letting his brother slip his tongue into his mouth. It brushed the roof of his mouth and stroked his own tongue before drawing out from between Edgar's lips. That was when Edgar said, "And the fifth time too."

Alan froze, eyebrows rising, "Damn."

Edgar smiled, blushing with a laugh, "Yeah. I guess so."

"Guess I should stop letting my dick do all the thinking, huh?" Alan asked, leaning down and turning the running water off. Edgar shook his head as Alan pulled open the shower curtain and stepped out. "Nah. The evening could've been worse." Alan took a towel from the rack and ran it down his face, looking at his brother, "Yeah. I guess so." Then he smiled, and Edgar smiled back.

* * *

"You did the right thing by callin' us, Sammy. Does your brother sleep a lot?" Edgar asked. Alan was grasping his brother's forearm to ensure that Edgar was sharing the phone as much as possible.

"Y-yeah, all day." He heard Sam's voice reply. He was nervous and he sounded like he'd run a couple of miles.

"Bad breath? Long fingernails?" Edgar asked.

Alan thought back to that day in which Sammy had explained his brother going through a 'typical teenaged phase'. He thought back to how Sammy had told him that his brother slept all day and went out at night, and talked about Chinese food that looked like maggots and salt sticking to his feet.

He shook his head, _Shouldn't have dismissed it._

"Yeah, his fingernails are a little bit longer." Sam sounded like he swallowed, "He's always had bad breath though."

Edgar and Alan exchanged looks.

"He's a vampire alright." Alan said.

"Oh my god, what do I do? Tell me what to do!" Sam's voice exclaimed.

Edgar clenched his fist, "First, get yourself a good, _sharp_ stake. Then _drive_ it _right_ through his heart."

"I can't do that!" Sam squeaked.

Alan cocked an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"He's my brother!" Sam cried. "What if one of _you_ guys turned into a vampire?"

The two brothers paused and looked at each other. Edgar's heart fell down to the bottom of his chest. Good god, he'd never given that any thought at all. It made him feel cold, and if he were more like Sammy, it would've brought tears to his eyes just thinking about it.

But Alan spoke strongly, looking hard into Edgar's eyes, "I'd want Edgar to stake me. Vampires are a threat to all life, truth, justice and the American way. I wouldn't wanna live out an undead life as a monster, and Edgar gets that."

Edgar's eyebrows arched, and the sadness fled him. His respect for his brother must have double in that moment and the thought of ever having to stake him fled his thoughts. Then he said, "Same for me. But then again Sammy, we would never be dumb enough to walk into a vampire's trap. Apparently your brother was."

"Aw man, what do I do guys? I can't kill him!"

Alan said, "Then we'll come over and do it for you."

Sam squeaked, "No!"

Alan dulled his eyes. Even though he was thrilled that Sammy wasn't a narrow-minded skeptic anymore and was on the level with himself and Edgar, he was still the old Sammy. He knew that even the two of them together wouldn't be able to convince him to kill his own brother. Hell, he shuddered at the thought of ever having to stake his own brother because he'd been turned into a vampire.

"Well, fine, Sammy. You'd better knit yourself a garlic t-shirt." Alan said.

Edgar nodded, "Or it's your funeral."

"We'll bring roses." Alan added before Edgar hung up the phone.

Edgar sighed and ran a hand down his face, "I can't believe that."

Alan shook his head, "Sammy told me some things about his brother a while ago. I dunno why I didn't get it before." Edgar shrugged and picked up the phone, and put it back on the shelf under the counter. Alan brushed his fingers through his hair and looked back at the TV which was playing _An Eye For An Eye_ from 1981. It was a rare occasion in which their mom had asked what the two brothers wanted to watch. Naturally they had gone directly to the collection of Chuck Norris movies and selected one.

He watched Captain Stevens scold Kane for tossing a killer out of a three story window. Then he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "What're we supposed to do now, Edgar?" He asked. Edgar sighed and glanced through the store. Then he clapped his brother on the shoulder, "Sell secondhand comics and hope that Sammy comes around before it's too late."

Alan nodded with a resigned sigh. Then he shook his head, "Fucking vampires."

Edgar patted his brother's shoulder, "I know, I know." Then he picked up the box of comics he had been shelving before Sammy had called on the shop's phone.


	17. Lucy's Boyfriend

**Hello everyone! **

**I must say I had a fine day. I woke up at noon, ate some strawberries, a poptart, and swallowed down a glass of orange juice. Then I went and passed my driver's test. Then I came home and watched a couple episodes of Adventure Time. Then I went down to the church in town to have dress rehearsal for this dinky little itty bitty little kid production where I play the Mother in a tour of culture and sweated my ass off while acting. And I also got insulted frequently by this bitchy little girl who was a lot shorter than me, and a bit chubby. Goodness, I'd forgotten how mean elementary kids can be! **

**Haha, I'M a high school senior! Nobody says shit to anyone cuz we're all mature! XDD Well most of us anyways. I haven't been called an emo raccoon since my freshman year so...haha, but I think that's just because everyone was too afraid to mess with me, especially since I wear combat boots with steel toes hehehehe.**

**I must say I have missed my frequent readers' comments! They just are not there and I'm like...-sniffle- don't you love me anymore? I'll give you a chance to make up for it! -cough- Demetri! -cough cough- Jazzy! -cougheddy cough cough-**

**Oh, and there's sex in this chapter...just thought I'd get you excited XDD**

* * *

"I seem to remember us trying to tell you, Sammy." Alan said, pulling the lock loose on the long sliding door. Sammy followed him, jabbering to both brothers as Edgar dragged a display cart covered in comics into the doorway that Alan opened.

"I know! I know! But how long have…they, it, them, whatever the hell they are…have long have vampires been in Santa Carla?" Sammy cried.

Alan loaned Edgar a hand as he pulled the cart out. Edgar said, "There's been some serious vampire activity going on around here for years. Haven't you seen all the missing people posters?"

"Aren't they just runaways?" Sammy asked.

Alan snorted, "If they're lucky." He reached up and rubbed at his jugular, repulsed at the thought of a vampire sinking their fangs into his neck. "Santa Carla's become a haven for the undead."

Edgar nodded and led the way over to the next sliding door, "We even have reason to believe that ghouls and werewolves have positions of power at city hall!" Alan nodded in agreement and Sammy looked at them like they were crazy but having seen his brother with a vampiric, transparent reflection, he decided to believe that anything was possible. But at the moment, he was already scared shitless of vampires, he really didn't want to observe the possibility of there being such thing as ghouls or werewolves.

Edgar pulled the lock loose and Alan walked open the door. "Seriously, Sammy. You should just let us nuke your brother." Alan said. Edgar nodded and tapped the side of his fist over the left side of his chest, "Right through the heart."

"He wouldn't feel a thing." Alan said.

"And if he does," Edgar said, dragging the second display cart into the newly opened doorway.

"Oh well." Alan finished with a shrug.

"No! I already told you! We can't do that! If my brother's a vampire, I'm telling you guys right now, he's only _half_!" Sammy cried out desperately. He shoved the open comic into the Frog brothers' faces. "It says here that there's always a Head Vampire! And if you wipe him out, all the half vampires will be human again!"

Edgar sighed heavily, already having full knowledge of the mechanics of vampirism from long hours of study them. "No shit, Sammy. Who do you think you're talking to here?"

"The Blues Brothers?" Alan retorted.

"I love that movie."

The three boys glanced over their shoulders and saw Mama Frog who had been sitting quietly next to the television which was playing an old movie from 1962 called _Lawrence of Arabia_, and munching on Buc-Wheat cereal straight from the box.

The movie on the screen suddenly fizzled. The VCR made whirring noises of protest. Mama Frog leaned forward and looked at the screen that had suddenly become overtaken with snow from behind her sunglasses. Then she leaned back, and went digging back into her cereal box, "I love that part."

Sam looked in confusion to Edgar and Alan. Edgar rolled his eyes and Alan mumbled, "I got it." He went forward to get the old, ruined tape out of the VCR before it wrecked the appliance.

Edgar looked to Sam, and gestured, "You were saying?"

Sammy jumped right back into his rant, "What I'm saying is that _all_ of this started happening when my mom started dating this guy Max! He owns that video store down the Boardwalk! I'm just about convinced that _he's_ the Head Vampire!"

Edgar thought about it for a little less than a moment and then carefully, and skeptically nodded, "That's probable I 'spose. What's your reasoning?"

"Well... he only shows up at the store after dark. And today, his dog attacked my mom!" He flipped through the copy of Vampires Everywhere that Edgar and Alan had given him. "Listen to this. From Vampires Everywhere..." Then he started reading aloud, "'Vampires require a daytime protector – a Guardian – to watch over them as they sleep. For it is during the day that the vampire is most vulnerable. Since they hold sway over animals, fierce dogs - the hounds of Hell – are often employed for this purpose.'"

Edgar smirked, "Good thinking Sammy."

Alan brought the tape out from the VCR, the film strip was all messed up and crinkled and twisted. He looked over at Edgar and Sammy, "Didn't we tell you that that comic would save your life?"

"Alan?" Mama Frog asked.

He looked to her, with his eyes questioning. She put down the cereal box, "Did you pick up anything else?"

"Oh." Alan said and looked over to Edgar who was already fishing in the pocket of his pants. He drew out a tube of Bazooka Bubble gum and tossed it over to Alan who caught it. "Here, Mom."

She seemed delighted and settled right in next to their snoozing Dad as she untwisted the cap. He set the ruined tape down on the counter and said, "We'll check out this Max character."

Edgar nodded, "You don't gotta worry Sammy. We got your back."

Sam jumped nearly five feet in the air when Mama Frog, Alan, And Edgar all roared at the same time, "GETCHUR THIEVING, STICKY, KLEPTOMANIACAL DIGITS OUTTA HERE!" He whipped around to see a group of Surf Nazis preying on one of the display carts.

"What did you say to me, little boys?" The leader asked, standing tall and angrily striding toward Edgar, Alan and Sam.

"SIC'EM FIDO!" Mama Frog yelled. And sure as shit, out came galloping little Venus, barking and spraying drool ferociously. It was like a switch flipped and one of the Surf Nazis screamed, "Greg, let's get outta here!" The leader and his posse went scrambling out of the store, yelling out in fright as they did.

The little Bully stopped in the doorway of the store and let out huge barks that echoed across the Boardwalk for good measure. "Yeah, go catch a wave or something ya buncha stupid gulls!" Edgar called after them, shaking his head in annoyance.

Mama Frog was cooing, "Good boy, Fido. Good dog. Good boy!" Venus went trotting around the back counter and Mama Frog leaned down to let her lick at her tube of Bazooka bubblegum. "Ma, don't give her that. It'll make her sick. I went out and got dog stuff for a reason." Alan said, shaking his head in exasperation. Mama Frog obliged, going into the backroom with Venus close at her heels.

The Frog brothers looked back at Sammy who was standing, bewildered. Then he took in a deep breath and said, "Okay…normally I would say that _that_…was weird…but hey, my brother's a half vampire and my mom's dating the Head Vampire so I guess I have no room to talk. And what the hell does klepto…kleptomania…cal mean?"

Alan said, "It's an obsession with stealing stuff."

"And where exactly did you hear it?" Sam asked.

Alan cocked an eyebrow at him, "Sammy, we may look like a couple of comic shop bums who've watched too many Chuck Norris movies, but we're still smart. We happen to have an extensive vocabulary. Do you have any idea what a brachioerotisismist is?"

"No." Sam shook his head, and then asked curiously, "What is it?"

Alan shook his head, "Remain blissfully ignorant for that one. Trust me."

Edgar shook his head, still looking after the Surf Nazis. "I wish they were vampires so I could shove a pickaxe right through their hearts."

Sam asked, "How do you know they're not?"

Alan answered, "They wouldn't be out in the daytime. Daylight'll roast a vampire like a pig on a pike. Unless it's a halfie, which'll avoid daylight like the plague."

"Hence why your halfie brother wears sunglasses inside the house if he's awake during the day." Edgar said, sweeping his hands across the air as if about to do a little ballerina curtsie.

"How many vampires have you guys destroyed?" Sammy asked, reeled in by how much he had underestimated his friends.

"All together?" Edgar asked.

"Zero." Alan said, holding up his hand with his fingers molded to the shape of a zero.

Sammy's jaw dropped, and he looked like he felt betrayed by the two of them, like they'd been leading him on. But Edgar reached out and clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Hey, hey, Sammy. Just because a Marine hasn't seen combat, does _not_ mean that he isn't still a Marine. Like Alan said, we'll check out your Mom's boyfriend."

* * *

Sammy led the Frog brothers into the dining room and grimaced when he saw Max was about to kiss his mother. Edgar and Alan looked scrutinizingly at Max. He was a big guy in a neat suit with neat brown hair and eye glasses well-proportioned to his face. They thought he looked a bit like an uppity nerd, but they didn't let that make the first judgment on whether or not he was a vampire.

"Mom…"

Lucy and Max both jumped and looked to the three of them.

"These are my dinner guests, Mom. Edgar and Alan. The Frog brothers?"

Lucy looked thrown and she brought a hand up to run through her short hair. "Ah…I didn't know, um, that you were having dinner guests."

Sam shrugged, "Well, Mom, if we're in your way, we could just go into the kitchen and eat peanut butter out of the jar or something." He started to turn around to lead Edgar and Alan into the kitchen.

Lucy put out a hand, "No, no. There's plenty for everyone. Everyone this is Max. Max this is Sam, and they are Edgar and Alan Frog."

"Hi boys." Max said pleasantly.

The brothers merely grunted in response, studying him very closely. Max seemed a little disgruntled but smiled anyways.

Lucy smiled, "I'm so glad to finally meet you two. Gosh, I feel like I've known you for a long, _long_ time. Last I heard of you two, you were trading pneumonia back and forth. Are you both feeling better? You look well."

"Mhmm." Edgar hummed. And Alan gave a supporting nod.

"Well, that's wonderful. Why don't you all have a seat and I'll go get dinner." Lucy said with a bright smile and disappeared into the kitchen. Edgar sat beside Max, and Sam sat across from them with Alan. Edgar rolled up the sleeved of his military fatigue and brushed one long strand end of his headband over his shoulder. Alan kept the sleeves of his fatigue down around his wrists and his hands still and relaxed on the table.

Max didn't seem aware of all the boys keeping an eye on him as Lucy came from the kitchen and served them spaghetti. When she sat down herself, they picked up their forks.

Max smiled, "Lucy, this looks terrific." Then passed some noodles wound around his fork into his mouth.

Lucy giggle, "Well, I hope it tastes good."

Edgar sipped his glass of water.

Alan stirred the noodles around on his plate.

Sam on the other hand, seemed to have no problem going to town and stuffing his face with noodles and a slice of buttered bread. Edgar and Alan decided not to put it past him as they glanced at one other. Sammy was nervous, so maybe he was an eater when he was nervous. They didn't actually know that Sammy usually ate like that all the time.

With Edgar and Alan, give them both a slice of bread and some hummus, and they were pretty much all set.

"Mm! This is wonderful!" Max said, bent enthusiastically over his plate.

Edgar looked down at his plate, digging his fork around in the spaghetti and not eating just as his brother was doing.

Lucy licked her lips and swallowed down what she'd fed herself and picked up her napkin, "Boy! _Somebody_ around here as bad breath!"

The boys all looked up from their plates and looked directly at Max. Max adjusted his elbows against the table and paused, seeing Sam and Alan looking to him. He perplexedly turned his head to see Edgar staring at him too. Edgar slowly averted his gaze, having shared a direct gaze with Max's eyes behind his glasses. Max cocked an eyebrow, obviously wondering why the boys thought he was the culprit.

"Nanook, will you quit breathing on me?" Lucy asked sweetly. They looked and saw that Nanook had put his paws up on the table and was towering over Lucy who was still sitting. Sam rolled his eyes, "Nanook, go upstairs. Go on."

Edgar and Alan exchanged disappointed looks. Lucy chuckled as Nanook looked at Sam and then turned away, getting down from the table.

Edgar caught Sam's eye and tilted his head upward slightly, indicating the little container of grated 'cheese'. Then he subtly tilted his head slightly to the side, toward Max. Alan handed Sam the container who looked to Max and held it toward him, "You want some parmesan cheese on that?"

"Um, yeah, Sam." Max smiled with a nod. "Thank you very much."

Sam raised his eyebrows at the brothers in triumph.

"Sam grated the cheese himself. My son." Lucy smiled, reaching over to pat Sam's arm. Sam shrugged in a 'Well, you know' sort of way.

The boys watched Max spoon a healthy amount of the 'cheese' over him spaghetti. Edgar watched as Max picked up a forkful saying, "Another budding chef in the family." He smiled at Lucy as he did.

_Get ready to bubble and sizzle like a freshly salted slug, El Vampiro…_

Then Max sputtered and gagged. Lucy jumped, putting down her fork and reaching to touch Max's arm, "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, it's," Max coughed, "it's not cheese, it's garlic."

"Bet you _hate_ garlic doncha?" Sam exclaimed. "_Ow_."

Alan and Edgar kicked him under the table, both thinking, _Real fucking subtle, Sammy!_

Max chuckled, "No, I _like_ garlic," Edgar clenched his jaw, lifting his hand and then setting it down as a fish gently on the table, trying to keep his frustration in check. "It's just a little much." Max chuckled, "It's _raw_ garlic."

Lucy sniffed the container of garlic and grimaced, "_Garlic_? How did that happen?"

Sam leaned in close to Alan, and whispered, "He likes garlic."

Alan muttered through the corner of his mouth, "That's _obvious_, Sammy." Edgar nudged Sam under the table, getting his attention. He raised his eyebrows at Sammy's glass of water he had instructed him to spike with the little pill bottle filled with holy water when nobody wasn't looking.

Sam got the idea and grabbed his glass, "Quick! Drink some water!" and then, none too gracefully or accidently looking he dumped it all over Max's front.

"Sam!" Lucy cried. "What is the matter with you?"

Max sprang up from his chair and quickly started toweling himself off with his napkin. "Does it burn?" Sam practically yelled.

Edgar would have rolled his eyes up to the ceiling if he hadn't been watching Max react so closely. It was pretty obvious that nothing going on here was accidental anymore so why not just keep going.

"Burn? What're you nuts? It's _freezing_!" Max answered as he and Lucy wiped his clothes off.

Edgar clenched his jaw and got up from his chair as Lucy fussed over Max, saying that she was so sorry about his suit and Max saying that it was fine. Alan acted to, getting to his feet. Sam got the message late but jumped from his chair into action just as Edgar turned the lights off and Alan pinched the candle flames dead with either hand.

"Now what?" Lucy asked, sounding confused and a bit frustrated. This really wasn't the evening she had planned.

"Must be the circuit breaker, Mom!" Sam called as he hurried over to Edgar in the dark. Edgar leaned in closed to Sam who had a mirror in his hands, "He's not _glowing_, Sammy." Sammy sounded even more frustrated than everyone else when he answered, "I know, idiot!" Edgar grabbed Sam's arm firmly, "This is not the time, nor the place for you to be insulting me, Sammy."

"I'm _sorry_, hit the lights!" Sam whispered.

"AH!" Max yelled when the lights came on and he was face to face with his own _reflection_. Lucy cried out in surprise as well and then took the mirror from Sam's hands. "Sam! What has gotten into you tonight?"

_Reflection, holy water, garlic, bad breath…for fuck's sake! _Edgar ground his teeth in annoyance.

Max settled his hand on his hips after brushing back his hair, "I think I know what's going on here tonight."

A lump jumped into Edgar's throat. Alan was affected the same way. Sam didn't catch on yet.

"You do?" Edgar asked gruffly, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Yeah. I know what you're thinking, Sam, but you're wrong." Max said down to Sam who caught on at Max's words. "I…I am?"

"Yeah,"

Edgar looked to Alan who was warily watching Max. Edgar was already nervous and his fingers were twitching for the comforting roughness of the stake tucked into his boot. If it was needed at least.

"I'm not trying to replace your father."

Alan's tensed shoulders loosened and he shook his head slightly. _Are you kidding me?_

"Or steal your mother away. I would just like to be your friend, that's all."

Sam looked guiltily to the floor when Max told Lucy goodnight and Lucy looked to Sam, "Thanks a lot." Sam said, shame-faced, "I'm sorry, Mom." as she went past him and hurried after Max, sympathetically and disappointedly apologizing.

Alan sighed slightly, stepping back from the table.

Sam looked sadly at the brothers, "_Major_ mistake."

Edgar looked firmly at Sam, "Do you have any other ideas of who the Head Vampire might be?"

Sam emptily shook his head, "No. But Mike might."

Alan asked, "Where is he?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know."

Edgar heaved a sigh, "Well, Max ain't a bloodsucker." Alan went around the table, "Well, let's hope wherever the hell he is, he isn't making his first kill."

Sam reached up and rubbed at his eyes, "God…"

Edgar clapped him on the shoulder, "Call us as soon as you talk to your brother, Sammy."

Sam nodded, "I will..."

* * *

"This sucks. Ow, _Jesus_!" Edgar grunted as his back cracked under his brother's hands.

"What sucks? The fact that Max isn't the Head Vampire? Or the fact that you turned yourself into a pretzel after you rode into that pothole on the way back here?" Alan asked, from where he sat straddling his brother, kneading his Edgar's sore muscles more gently.

Edgar drew in a breath and dropped his face into the pillow, muffling his groan. Alan chuckled, and ran his hand smoothly across his brother's skin, "It's alright. Nobody saw you go down but me."

He heard Edgar scoff into the pillow.

"Seems like I'm always taking care of you, Bro." Alan chuckled.

The reply was a rough sigh from the pillow.

Alan smirked and went back to work, kneading Edgar's back. "'Watch out Edgar, there's a pothole.' 'Where? AH!'" He mocked, and then he broke into laughter.

Edgar turned his head and glared up at his brother. Alan's laughter died down and he was still smiling. He leaned downward, "Now, now. Don't look at me like that." He slipped his right hand around the back of his brother's head and cupped his brother's right cheek next to the pillow. He leaned in further, and felt his brother's breath before he kissed him.

Edgar's heart jumped in his chest. When there was a small space between their lips, Edgar gasped, his breath and heart already starting to race in excitement. He opened his mouth and let his brother's tongue in. He moaned into Alan's mouth and tried to roll over underneath him.

But Alan pulled away and placed his hands firmly but gently upon his brother's shoulder blades. Edgar arched his eyebrows, looking up at his brother as best he could, with questioning eyes. Alan leaned down again and pressed a kiss to the nape of Edgar's neck. And then to his shoulder, and then to the base of his neck.

Edgar felt Alan shift his body downward so he was straddling his legs. And he also felt his brother's fingers grip either side of the waistband of his boxers and slowly pull them down. Edgar licked his lips and swallowed, his excitement was pressing hard against the sheets under him. He felt Alan's tongue glide down his spine. Down to the small of his back and right down against the crevice of his behind. He jumped with a gasp and groan.

He quickly rolled himself over and grabbed his brother by the shoulders and yanked him down to kiss him. Alan's hand wrapped around Edgar's erection and his brother arched into his touch, grasping him around the shoulders tighter. His quivering lips opened and once again Alan pressed his tongue into his brother's, and gathered Edgar's tongue into his own mouth.

Edgar grabbed the back of his brother's hair and a growl rasped in his throat, "_Fuck me_." Alan felt the blood already flowing in his dick throb in need. He was more than happy to oblige his brother's request…no, _demand_. He shifted his position so that he was between his brother's legs. Then he grabbed Edgar's thighs and pushed them up to his brother's chest. Edgar was already quivering in anticipation.

Alan spit heartily in his hand and coated his erection. Then he pressed himself into Edgar, making his brother draw in a gasp. He pushed deeper into Edgar, moving his knees closer to his brother. Now Alan had Edgar between his knees again, his erection deep inside him, his chest pressed against his brother's.

Edgar's head rolled back and forth on the pillow as Alan started to thrust. His arms wrapped around Alan, and he pressed his face into the nape of his brother's neck. "Ah! Christ, please…_Alan!_"

Having become extremely familiar with his brother's body, Alan understood how to angle his thrusts so that he pressed against the spot, whatever the hell it was, that made his brother see stars, his muscles tighten, and his pleasure heighten. And the current position they were in was perfect for depth and angle.

Edgar dropped his head against the pillow. Alan captured his lips, earning himself a breathless moan from his brother. He swirled his tongue around in his brother's mouth, and massaged his tongue hard against Edgar's taste buds. He felt his brother's fingertips become rigid against his back, and felt him groan into his mouth.

His muscles winced slightly, but it only made him quicken his pace. Edgar leaned his head back into the pillow, groaning and breaking their kiss. Alan ran his tongue up his brother's exposed neck and nipped his nape. Edgar suddenly grasped Alan by his dark, raven hair and yanked his head back. Alan let out a grunt and growl when his brother's teeth sunk into the side of his neck.

It made him drive quicker and harder into Edgar, who was obviously pleased with the result. Alan licked his palm and reached down between their bodies, and wrapped his fingers around Edgar's erection. It made the hairs on the back of Edgar's neck stand on end as he gasped. He started muttering incoherently against his brother's collarbone, his grip tightening on his shoulders, and his muscles tensing harder.

Alan hissed as his brother clawed harder into his back. But he'd been already so close to the edge so he was pleased that the intentions of his stroking hand were becoming successful. And he knew it well when Edgar came hard in his hand, and yelled out against his collarbone. And then groaned when the production of Alan's own orgasm coated his insides.

Alan pressed his forehead to Edgar's temple as either of them panted from the exertion and excitement, both of them completely exhausted. Edgar let out a drained, moaning sigh as he turned his head to look up at Alan.

Alan lifted his head from Edgar's and gave him a soft, tired kiss before gently pulling himself from his brother's insides, making Edgar let out another sigh. He dropped onto his side next to Edgar and mumbled, "I don't wanna even lean over to turn off the light."

Edgar chuckled, turned his head to look at his brother and asked, "Do you think I want to? I don't think I could."

Alan opened his eyes and looked at Edgar. Then he smiled sleepily, and rolled over, reached with a dramatic groan and turned off the light.

In the darkness, Edgar turned over onto his side, and rested his head upon his brother's chest. Alan took Edgar's left knee and pulled it over his thigh, and wrapped his other arm around his brother's bare back. He sighed quietly and then said, "I dunno how we're gonna fight for truth, justice and the American way if we're fucking all the time."

Edgar snorted and mumbled, "Its excellent exercise…"

Alan let out an airy, drowsy laugh, "Get's us all…sweaty,"

"And…exhaust…ed…" Edgar mumbled and drifted off in his brother's arms.


	18. First Come, First Stake

**Yeaaaahh...A little over a month since the last update. Sorry. But between having a job as a bloody lowly dishwasher (which I have just quit! ^_^) and starting my Senior year, it's been pretty hectic. I hope you guys aren't mad at me. Haha, have pity for me! I'm broken! I'm hooked up to a heart monitor because I've been having palpitations! And I've been trying to catch a good attack, hit the button which will play back the last recorder 45 seconds of my heartbeat and send it to a hospital somewhere in Tennessee...XDD**

**GOOH AND THESE STICKY THINGS THAT THE WIRES HOOK UP TO ARE SO ANNOYING AND OWIE! THE TECH WARNED ME TO PUT THEM IN DIFFERENT PLACES EACH TIME OR MY SKIN WILL OOZE! No jank, OOZE...I don't even wanna know!**

**I had to update my other story as well though. And I'd already started that chapter, so I finished and posted that one first. And I've been bringing my laptop to school and working on this chapter every free second I had (which was very few). Haha, be thankful, XDD I was working on this instead of paying attention to my English teacher for you guys! Which made me miss the fact that an entire research thingy about _Of Mice And Men_ is due Monday...such a sad story...and I really wanna punch Curley and his wife...**

**Hell, I even made myself watch The Thirst to gather a little muster. It wasn't as bad as the second one, I'll admit. And I think I almost wet myself when Edgar said after being sprayed with vampire guts "I feel like pancakes'. But still, it ain't the original which will always be the best! Although, I have to admit that Alan is pretty comical and sexy as a vamp even with the whole putting off being a whole vampire by eating animal blood thing (referring to the random dead animals that he was sifting through to find yummy blood filled organs to munch on). **

**Hmm...**

* * *

They were sleeping when they got the call. But the moment after Alan realized that it was Sammy, he looked at Edgar with the seriousness boldly flaring in his dark eyes. With a promise to a very scared Sammy, Alan hung up the phone and he and his brother geared up quickly, and silently with their jaws strongly set.

They rode their bikes. Edgar with his blue headband tied tight and Alan with his beret firmly set upon his head. As they passed people, some thought they merely were a couple of little Rambo wannabes who needed to stop dreaming of army rations, but even so they kept out of the path of their bikes. Their stern glares were easy to read. Some shit was going to go down for some unlucky bastard or bastard_s_.

They rode their bikes up Sammy's long driveway, with the dust they were kicking up rising high behind them. They dropped their bikes swiftly, and stomped with equal strides up onto the porch. Sammy met them eagerly at the door, "Hey,"

Edgar pushed past him, "Okay. Where's Nosferatu?"

Sammy closed the door behind them, "What?"

Edgar said as he looked around, "The Prince of Darkness."

"Night crawler." Alan suggested.

"Suck Monkey." Edgar followed.

"Bloodsucker."

"_El Vampiro_." Edgar finished, feeling that they had answered Sammy's question thoroughly enough.

Sam shouted up the stairs, "Mike! They're here!"

After a second, someone appeared at the top of the stairs. He had long hair, not a bulky body but still looked strong, and he was wearing dark sunglasses. And he looked pretty weak and fragile. Edgar lowered his eyebrows in concentration. He and Alan hadn't really met Michael formally. But after hearing about the fact that Michael had become a vampire, he admitted to himself that he had been expecting something more…not to be ironic, but something more…_alive_ looking.

"Guy looks more like a brain-dead zombie." He said, glancing at Sammy.

Alan reached back and gripped a stake protruding from his pack, "Should I skewer him? Brain-dead or not, I don't trust vampires."

Michael said wearily as he finally made it to the bottom of the stairs and sat down, "Your friends are charming, Sam."

Edgar leaned forward slightly and looked Michael in the eyes through his sunglasses. "I got one _very_ serious question for you and it'd be best for you if you answered honestly," He said with his jaw strong and his eyes dark and serious. "Have you taken any human lives yet?"

Michael shook his head tiredly, and breathed, "Course not!"

Edgar narrowed his eyes slightly, not sure whether to believe him or not, "If you're telling the truth, it means that me and my brother can save you."

Sam cried out, "He's telling the truth!" There was a small pause and he looked to his brother, "Aren't you, Mike?" Edgar straightened up, reaching up and fisting one side of his fatigues in his hand, "To free you, we gotta destroy the head vampire."

Michael tiredly said, "It's David."

Edgar shook his head, "Names aren't gonna help me here. Just tell me where I can find him. Tell me where the nest is."

Michael braced his hands on the step he was sitting on and started to push himself up, "I'll…I'll take you there."

Alan lowered his brow, "You can barely get to your feet. Besides, I still don't trust you. You're about halfway to being one of them yourself, _if_ you're telling the truth."

And then Michael's hand snapped out and grabbed Edgar by the arm. At the same time, Edgar yanked a small stake from his waistband and pressed the point under Michael's chin, his jaw firmly clenched and his eyes wide and cold. Alan had drawn the big stake from his backpack and was holding it over his head, ready to jam it into Edgar's possible attacker's' heart if he didn't fucking let go of his brother. The only one who had gasped in surprise, well more so squeaked, was Sammy.

Michael lifted his head slightly, feeling the point of the stake breaking his skin and cause a trickle of blood to run down his throat. He spoke slowly and as clearly as he could, "I said, _I'll take you there_. _Nobody's_ fucking going anywhere near Star without me."

Edgar never took his glaring, studying eyes from Michael's. He asked, "How many are there?"

Michael answered, "Four not including Star and Laddie. They're big, they're strong, and they've all got a mouth full of teeth with a bad attitude."

Edgar was silent for another moment and then said, "Okay, fine." _I could always stake him later. _Michael nodded and released Edgar's arm. Edgar lowered the stake from Mike's throat and tucked it back into his waistband. He glanced at his brother as he lowered the big stake and tucked it back into his pack over his shoulder.

Alan's dark eyes questioned Edgar if he was okay. And Edgar gave a nod of reassurance, and rubbed at his bruised arm when no one was looking.

Then Alan looked to Michael and asked, "How're we getting there?"

Michael grabbed the banister and started to drag himself up to his feet. Sammy stepped forward to help. He stayed at his brother's side as they walked across the foyer, "We borrow the car." He grabbed a leather jacket and pulled it on as they went back outside.

The Frog brothers watched Michael wince when he stepped into the sunlight, and bend his head. Alan mumbled to his brother, "He's definitely a halfie."

Edgar nodded, "Would've been barbecued otherwise."

Sammy said over his shoulder, keeping a hand on Mike's arm to make sure he was steady, "I told you he was telling the truth."

* * *

Kidnapping the car was a no big deal. It was keeping Michael awake at the wheel that had a challenge to it. When they stopped at a stop sign, his chin hit his chest. And a car blared it's horn behind them, making him jump awake. Edgar turned around and looked back at the old woman who had laid on her horn. "Yeah, I bet you got someplace pretty _friggin'_ important to be, Grandma! Just chill out!" She flipped them off as they parted ways.

Edgar sat back down and sighed in agitation. "Fall asleep one more time." Edgar said. "Just one more." He added impatiently. Sammy looked worriedly at his brother as he drove. Alan glanced around, "Go a bit faster. Each minute of daylight is precious. They're weakest when they're sleeping."

Michael nodded and pressed his toe a little harder against the gas pedal going a couple miles over the speed limit until they left town and were driving down the dusty excuse for a road. Edgar clenched his jaw, "Hudson's Bluff? Are you sure? Last I heard, the caves were entirely blocked off in the avalanche that killed some of the debris crew."

Michael shook his head, "They might have been blocked off at one point but that doesn't stop _them_." He stopped the car and put it in park. He pointed at the stairs, "Down there." The Frog brother's jumped from the car and did a quick weapons and supply check. Sam went around as Michael pushed open the car door. Sam knelt in front of him as his brother hung his head and sighed in exhaustion. "Sam…I don't want you goin' down there."

"I'm goin' Mike." Sam said firmly to his weak brother.

"Sammy, this isn't a movie or a dumb comic book. These are real vampires and they're brutal killers."

"So are the Frog brothers." Sam added. Mike glanced at Edgar and Alan as they thoroughly checked one another's packs, not sure about his little brother's faith in the pair.

"If something happens to me down there, I'm not gonna have the strength to protect you…or your buddies." Mike said. Sam shook his head, "This time I'll protect _you_, Bud. I've been taking care of myself most of the summer, I can take care of you this time. You may be a vampire but you're still my Bro."

Michael stared Sammy in the eyes from behind his glasses for a long moment. He let out a resigned sigh, shifting his weight tenderly to the other foot. "Okay…but Sammy, if something does happen to me…or I can't go on, you gotta promise me you _won't_ let them hurt Star."

Sam swallowed hard, unnerved by such a responsibility and the fear that something might _actually_ happen to his brother. Things were getting real. There were actual vampires down in that cave, and just like his brother said, each had a mouthful of teeth, and according to Edgar and Alan's occasional teachings, an intense thirst for blood and death. But he nodded.

He helped Michael out of the car as Alan and Edgar charged toward the stairs.

Edgar paused and turned, "Just so you know, if you try to stop us or vamp out in _any_ way at all, I'll stake you so hard you're gonna be the only one in the afterlife in a wheelchair!"

"Chill out, Edgar." Sam said shaking his head. Edgar stared at the two of them a second longer and then sprinted down the stairs after his brother.

Michael asked as Sammy gripped his leather clad arm over his shoulder, "Where did you say you found these guys again?"

* * *

Alan and Edgar entered a lobby in the depths of the cave. "Holy shit!"

"Vampire hotel! Where's the bellhop?"

They scampered around, searching as Michael and Sam finally made it down. Edgar brushed some tapestry out of his way. Curled up in a nest of blankets, turned away and shielding her face from the sun and sleeping was a female vamp with long brown hair. Edgar called over his shoulder, "Here's one!" He reached over his shoulder and yanked a stake from his pack as Alan ran over to join him.

"Don't you fucking touch her you little shits!" Michael yelled. Edgar and Alan looked at each other and left the four poster that held the female vamp. "C'mon Sammy. Your brother's throwing a tantrum." He grunted.

As the three younger boys searched around the lobby, Michael left with a small boy in his arms by the beseeching from the female lying in the four poster bed that was apparently Star.

Alan's eyes scanned through the cave as he stepped over a chandelier in what was left of a fountain. It may have been his first time ever coming across an actual vampire lair, but he was entirely focused. He had been waiting for this his entire life for a moment like this since his little brother had picked up an old used horror comic full of vampires for Alan to read to him when they were both very young.

He looked around an outfall of rock, and climbed up and felt up along the walls until he came across an opening between all kinds of supporting boards and cobwebs. He put out his open palm and felt cold air flow gently through his fingers. He looked over his shoulder, "I feel a draft! I think there's something up here!"

Edgar and Sammy froze in their searching and raced over to where Alan was. Edgar climbed up beside his brother and held out his hand, feeling the air as his brother had. He took off his pack and dug through it. He took out two heavy flashlights and gave one to Sam. He flipped his own on and shined it up the opening, "It's a slanted downdraft. It's small but we can get through." He looked at his companions, "Let's take a look."

Alan wedged himself into the opening first with a grunt, "C'mon."

Edgar followed soon after.

"I'll be right back, Mike!" Sam shouted behind them.

"Come _on_, Sam!" Edgar encouraged from the tunnel. "Let's go!" And Sam clambered in after the Frog brothers.

Alan crawled through the tunnel, leading the way and advising his brother on boards that were sticking out and rocks that were sharp, all the while keeping his head low. He reached up and brushed webs and vines from his beret. As he crawled on, he started to feel flies attacking his face in the musty dryness, going into his eyes for a drink. He grunted in disgust and swatted at the nasty little creatures and warned over his shoulder, "Flies."

Edgar nodded and said, "We're going the right way."

Sam asked, swatting frantically at the flies that were buzzing around him, "How do you figure that?"

Edgar paused and looked over his shoulders, "Flies and the undead go together like bullets and guns." Then he pressed on after Alan who had taken out a can of bug spray and was giving the air around them a few puffs of it, dropping the flies like…well flies.

Alan led them through a fork in the tunnel, taking the left opening at Edgar's suggestion, since it tilted downward. He figured it would get colder, making it an ideal place for the vampires' coffins. But after about five minutes of crawling and grunting, Alan paused and shifted up to his knees, and grabbed a hold of a board above him, shining his flashlight downward.

Edgar lowered an eyebrow, "Alan?"

His brother didn't answer.

So he scooted up to his knees as well, keeping his head ducked. He shifted closer to Alan and started to ask, "Alan, what is," but he paused when he saw his brother's profile. His lips were parted slightly and he was looking downward. Edgar followed his gaze and his eyes widened at the pile of skeletons at the bottom of the air pocket that part of the fault earthquake had spilled into.

Sam scooted close behind them and cried out in shock when his eyes landed on a skeleton wearing what was left of a period bellhop uniform. He scooted backward quickly, "Disgusting! Guys, let's go back the other way."

Edgar turned and nodded, "Yeah. Go Sammy. C'mon Alan." Alan turned around and followed after them after observing the pile of furniture and aged skeletons a moment more. He tried to block out the image of being in that hotel lobby. And then all of a sudden, falling. Just falling into cold, breathless darkness. And then crack, landing on a bed of solid rock hard enough to break your spine and split your skull. He thought of that smaller skeleton that had been draped over a suitcase wrapped in the phalanges of a skeleton wearing a period tattered and worn dress. He'd seen his fair share of Missing Child posters having lived in Santa Carla all his life. But he had just seen a dead body of an actual child.

He shook his head and let his brother lead the way through the right fork in the tunnel. He wasn't going to let his brother be a black and white face plastered over a piece of paper that lined every notice board in this city. He'd see his own death first…He had no idea just how close unliving death currently was.

Soon they came to a spot where the tunnel widened and they could finally stand. And right there all three boys were slapped in the face with a putrid, sickly smell that made Sammy gag, Edgar wrinkle his nose and wave at the air, and Alan grimace.

"God, what's that smell?" Sam asked, covering his nose.

Edgar coughed, "That would be the rotten stench of vampires my friend. Vampires." He shined his flashlight around and led the way further down the tunnel. He swept hanging cords from his path and stepped carefully around anything obscuring the dusty rock floor. He could feel an icy bite appear in the air and under his fatigues goose bumps arose on his skin. He saw a puff of steam flow from his mouth when he exhaled.

He heard someone's teeth chattering behind him. And he wasn't surprised when Sam said from between his clicking teeth, "God, it's…it's freezing in here!"

"You have a very firm grasp of the obvious." Edgar grunted as he jumped down a ledge and landed firmly on his feet, bending at the knees. He turned and looked up. He grabbed Sam's arm when he jumped down after him and nearly tumbled down onto his face. When Sam was steadied, he kept a hand raised as his brother hopped lithely down after both of them, grunting as he landed smoothly.

They shined their flashlights around, and realized that they were standing in a hole that had no other way out except for the way they'd come. Sam said, shivering with cold and fear, "It's a dead end guys. C'mon, let's go back."

Edgar shook his head, "They had to have hidden their coffins around here somewhere. This has to be the coldest air pocket in the entire cave."

Sam shook his head, "There's nothing here, Egdar. C'mon, let's go back. There could be another opening back in the,"

"Jesus!" Edgar cried out, shining his flashlight upward.

Sam turned his bright square light upward and opened his mouth to start a scream, which Edgar silenced by clapping his hand swiftly over his mouth.

Up above them, in the wavering beams of their flashlights, hung four bodies. Their eyes were closed, long lashes fanned against their pale cheekbones. Their long hair hung downward, reaching for the three boys. Their arms embraced their chests, fingertips pressing against the shoulders of their jackets.

If they weren't hanging upside down by their toes, Edgar might have thought them to be a few human punks who enjoyed skirting the beaches and kicking sand up with their motorcycles. But as he looked up at them, he thought that they really couldn't be anything other than monsters despite their human features.

In their shock, and sudden fear, they shined their flashlights up at the sleepers. Sam croaked, "I thought they were supposed to be in coffins!"

"That's what this place is," Edgar said, glancing around as the steam of his breath in the cold evaporated, "It's one giant coffin!"

Sam started shivering erratically as he watched the Frog brothers start climbing up the craggy cave wall toward the hanging beasts. It wasn't just the cold either. He thanked God that he hadn't drank much this morning, otherwise right on sight, he figured he most likely would have pissed himself.

"You just have to kill the leader! Then we can get out of here!" Sammy whispered.

"We don't know which one the leader is." Edgar pointed out as he adjusted his footing and grip to pull himself higher. "We'll just have to kill'em all." The brothers pretended to not have heard their wildly dressed companion whimper in fear out of respect for his manhood. If he had any. "We'll start with the little one."

Alan smirked, passing a stake up to his brother, "First come, first staked." Edgar snorted to himself at Alan's words.

"What the hell was that? A little vampire humor? It's not friggin' funny." Sam said, his voice shuddering.

Technically it was a little cheap vampire humor. But it was also an inside joke between the two brothers. It had been a long, hot day several years ago that involved sunburn, stake sharpening, Frog juice gulping, and some leftovers of Mama Frog's _special_ brownies.

Alan watched his brother get as close to the smallest of the vampires as he could, smirking as he thought of how hesitant his brother was to this day to touch even a Mars Bar. The little one had long blonde locks and a face too pretty and angelic to be on a guy, as Alan thought. He kept his flashlight aimed at the vampire's chest, to ensure his brother wouldn't miss.

"No! Don't even! This is a bad idea!" Sam called from the cave floor.

But Edgar wouldn't hear him. This was his first actual sighting of a creepy night crawly, bloodsucking, sunlight dodging, undead suck monkey from Hell. He'd be damned if he didn't kill it. Not just because he had said to his brother many years ago, while under the influence of chocolaty cannabis, that "_The first vampire come… uh, first one…um no, first come…I'm gonna stake'im. Fir- no…first…uh first come…I'ma…yeah um first staked. That's what I'm gonna do._"

But also because it was what he'd been searching for. These ungodly creatures were killers. A danger to all humans. It was bad enough that humans were killing each other without these unliving fiends added to the list.

"Goodnight, Bloodsucker." Edgar growled before plunging the stake toward his target. It all happened so fast that he barely had time to feel any different having staked his first vampire. There was a loud crunching sound as the stake broke through the ribs, a flash of wide animalistic eyes, screaming mouths, some with long fangs, some with human canine teeth, and blood…a great deal of blood…spraying all over the three boys.

The smallest vampire flailed, writhing as he screamed, agony he had never known ripping through him. Alan grabbed Edgar's wrist and jumped down toward the cave floor to join a screaming Sammy. The skewered vampire came plunging down, almost landing on top of them.

A booming voice, laced with anger yelled, "YOU'RE DEAD MEAT!"

Their yells were incomprehensible as they followed their number one instinct. Run…like…_hell_.

They ignored trivial things like cutting up their knees while shuffling over debris in the cave tunnel and slicing up their hands on wires, rocks and metal. They told each other over and over again to run, run faster, get moving, he's coming. The tunnel echoed with mass mayhem and extreme panic as the blood drenched-boys fled for their lives with a big, blonde, angry vampire dressed all in black right on their heels.

Sam let out a high-pitched scream when he felt a big hand decorated with claws close around his ankle and begin to pull. "GUYS! HE'S GOT ME!" Edgar threw an arm under Sammy's arm and around his chest, and Alan did the same as Sammy made hopeless crosses with his fingers.

"We got you Sam!"

"Don't let go!"

"Pull!"

"Hang onto'im!"

"Don't let me go!"

"Get him into the light!"

Sam's eyes locked with the vampire imprisoning him. The first vampire he had ever…well, the first full-blooded, vamped out vampire he had ever seen. He had felt threatened upon learning his brother was a creature of the night. Terrified as hell when he first learned that vampires even really existed when Michael's reflection in the mirror appeared transparent. He had nearly wet himself when his cute but creepy girlfriend, Star, had flown up to his window. But he had never known this fear. To be shackled by a monster with a contorted face, razor sharp fangs, and beastly eyes filled with murder. His current instinct was to constantly remind the Frog brother's not to let him go.

Edgar's current instinct was to hold on to Sam as tightly as he could and yank the bloodsucker into the rays of sunlight leaking into the tunnel.

Alan's current instinct led him to let go of Sam.

Sam screamed, slipping nearly a foot closer toward the vampire. Edgar strained, grinding his teeth. Sam screamed wildly begging Edgar not to let him go, to not let him die like Alan was.

But Edgar knew his brother better than that.

Alan yanked something from his pack, in one swift movement, throwing his arm downward, and grabbing onto Sam again.

The vampire roared in pain, or maybe irritation as a light piece of metal shaped suspiciously like a stake protruded from his shoulder, making his grip loosen slightly. This allowed himself to be pulled forward just enough for his hand to catch on fire in the ray of sunlight that the Frog brother's had yanked his captive into.

And Sammy was free. Not even dumbfounded, and not even thanking them, Sam shoved his way through the Frog brothers and led the way frantically back through the tunnel.

Sam lost his footing and slid all the way down to the lobby floor and hit the ground running. Alan and Edgar followed suit, except leaping from the opening in the wall and landing lithely on the ground, and then breaking into a sprint to get out of the lair.

"Mike! Start the car! Mike! Oh shit, MIKE!"

"I can't believe we ran away!"

"Quiet!" Edgar yelled. "I know we blew it!"

Alan grabbed a hold of the ledge, the adrenaline starting to make its way out of his body, bringing him to a wobbly, rambling state.

"We unraveled in the face of the enemy! I already did that once in my life! I can't believe I did it again!" Alan grabbed onto his beret as he raved.

Edgar grabbed his brother by the fatigues and led him quickly down the last few steps, "I know! It's not our fault though! They pulled a mind scramble on us! They opened their eyes and talked! Fangs ablaze!"

They saw Sam shove an unconscious Mike into the car and climb into the front seat. "I'll drive." Sam said, his voice still shaky.

"We don't ride with vampires." Alan stated bluntly, not bothering to wipe at the vampire blood trickling down his face and shining in the sunlight.

Sam glowered at him, obviously still upset with Alan for letting go of him back in the cave which almost landed him between the fangs of a very pissed off vampire. "Fine. Stay here then!" He closed the car door and turned the keys in the ignition, bringing the car to life.

Edgar looked at Alan who looked back at him. He shook his head, "We do now." Alan nodded and they hopped into the car. The adrenaline still raged through Edgar's veins. And something told him that it was the best for their lives if they got the hell out of there right then. For they had no idea if those vamps had any Hell hounds or other halfies that might come after them.

So Edgar advised Sam to 'burn rubber' and stomped on the gas pedal for him. And Sammy for some reason had thrown the car into reverse, not really having any driving experience to speak of. So this action in turn nearly sent them careening off the edge of the sea cliff with them yelling out before Sam slammed both feet on the brakes.

"Burn rubber does _not_…_fucking_ mean _warp speed_!" Sam reprimanded, and in spite of it all Edgar's eyebrows raised. That was the first time he had heard Sammy say the word fuck in such a way to someone else. Hell he was sure it was the first time he'd heard him say it at all!

Sam shifted gears and they went racing down the dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake. Sam was mumbling to himself in the front seat, "Pop the clutch? What the hell does that even mean? I can't believe this is happening to me. I almost died. Ohhh, we are so dead. What are we gonna do? 'First come, first staked' my ass. I oughta strangle you with my bare hands Alan for letting me go."

"Hey, chill out. You know how long it took me to make that metal stake? You oughta be thanking me."

"Thank you? Oh you son of a _bitch_!"

Edgar settled back into the seat, doing his best to avoid touching the halfies that they were sharing the car with at all costs. Alan looked back at him then looked back toward Sam to say something to calm him down. But he paused, and looked back at his brother.

"What?" Edgar asked.

"Edgar, you're hurt." Alan said, his eyes serious and worried.

"I am?" Edgar asked, and he examined his slightly cut up hands.

"No. Your shoulder."

Edgar looked to his shoulder. One probably wouldn't have been able to tell that his own blood had been mingling with the vampire blood that he was covered in. If not for the tears in his fatigues and shirt, and the four claw marks. It looked as if his skin had been opened by a thin razor that cut deep enough for the wounds to be hanging open.

Interesting how coming off an adrenaline high, and realizing the fact that you're injured makes you all of a sudden feel a flood of throbbing, burning agony. Edgar squeezed his eyes shut, ground his teeth and tried to place pressure on the bleeding, only succeeding in lighting his shoulder up like a beacon of pain.

"Jesus…fucking _Christ_!" Edgar growled between his teeth.


	19. Only In The Morgue

**I know, I know. It's VERY short...but this one had to be short so the next chapter could be long! **

**Ironically everyone, my body seems to be reverting back to Sweat It Out! Because! I AM SICK ONCE AGAIN! Sniffly, coughy, throaty, headachy! The whole package! Haha, irony, oh the irony! I've got a trashcan full of boogers, and a belly full of tylenol, benadryl, orange juice, and...leftover pizza...NO JANK! XDD But no worries, tomorrow, my mommy is gonna make some homemade chicken noodle soup with celery, chicken, carrots, genuine chicken stock broth, and grade A egg noodles. If our boys had a mommy like that, NONE of this would've happened! I mean, c'mon, Mama Frog! But then again thank you OwO**

**I did change around some things admittedly. But it could very well be canon. I even added a little allusion to the original script in which Sam drove them back home, and a cop showed up and Edgar was like "Quick, look older!" XD **

**But yeah, pretty canon. I have to say though, I was surprised that nobody got scratched in the whole killing-Marco-with-big-stake-and-nearly-get-eaten-by-David thing. Not even Sammy? And I always feel that our favorite fanged devils would have heard Edgar very much yell..."JESUS!" ya know, being vampires with some pretty good ears and all. But I can't very well just kill off my main characters without just cause! **

**Maybe I'll write something full focused on our Lost Boys in which they actually win. OwO Hmm...AHCHOO!**

* * *

"Sam, help Edgar!" Alan instructed as he carried the little kid called Laddie quickly toward the porch. He was following a stumbling Michael who was carrying his halfie girlfriend, Star, wrapped up in her tattered sheets.

"Let go of me, it's just a scratch." He heard Edgar grunt from the car.

Michael kicked open the door, led the way five feet into the house, and was greeted by a big, barking Nanook who was standing firmly on the stairs. Michael and Alan paused with their cargo. Edgar and Sam came into the house after them. Sam called, worried that Nanook might attack his brother or anyone else, "Cool it, Nanook!"

Edgar warily watched the husky, studying his raised fur and deep, warning bark, "Your dog knows a flesh-eater when he smells one."

"Take him outside, Sam." Michael said, holding Star closer to his chest.

"C'mon, Nanook. C'mon, boy." Sam hurried forward, taking his dog by the collar and leading him around his companions. Michael, Alan and Edgar started hurriedly up the stairs when Nanook was out of the way. Only to freeze again and whip around when a withered voice barked, "Michael!"

And there stood an old man, sweat brimming his bare brow under his coiled headband, two braids over one shoulder. He seemed to have a stern glint in his eye. The three boys thought that they were about to get the 411.

"Don't you know the rule about filling the car up with gas when you take it without askin'?"

Alan and Edgar looked at one another. The old man seemed to have no interest in the fact that his grandson had an unconscious dame wrapped up in his arms. And that he was being flanked by two boys dressed in army fatigues, one carrying a small boy wrapped in Michael's leather jacket, and both covered in dirt and dried up _blood_.

Michael said cleanly and carefully, "No, Grandpa…"

"Well," Grandpa Emerson said, "_now_ you _do_." And with that he left the foyer. Michael took a moment to slowly roll his eyes as the Frog brothers looked questioningly at him. And then he led them upstairs and into what seemed to be his bedroom.

He went around the bed and laid Star on one side as Alan roughly set down Laddie. Sam came running in, hand on the doorway and said, "Okay we definitely blew Plan A!" Alan saw Michael collapse against the wall and onto the floor where he closed his eyes and seemed to fall right off to an exhausted sleep.

"Time to activate Plan B." Edgar said, still holding a hand over the gashes in his shoulder. "What's Plan B?" Sam panicked.

Alan started out of the bedroom. "You got a first aid kit around here?" he asked, as Edgar was telling Sam, "We don't have one yet, and we only got about two and a half hours to come up with one!"

Sam and Edgar filed out after Alan who pulled shut the door, closing the sleeping halfies inside. Sam looked back and forth between the brothers, "Yeah, I think we have one in the kitchen under the sink. And what do you mean we only have two and a half hours? What's in two and a half hours?"

"The sun'll go down and they'll be looking for us and if they find us without a plan, they're gonna snack on our jugular veins and wear our severed heads as hats!" Edgar explained very bluntly.

Alan hurried down the stairs with the other two following after him, mostly preoccupied with one another and not paying attention to what he was doing or where he was going.

Edgar thought Sammy looked like he was ready to vomit. As he swallowed hard his eyes lit up a little, "Wait, maybe we can tell my mom!" Edgar rolled his eyes, "What the hell is she gonna do about bloodsuckers? Send them to their coffins without dinner?"

Sam shook his head, "We have to tell her! We need help!"

Alan ignored their arguing and reached under the kitchen sink where his fingers found a huge, metal case. "Whoa." He muttered as he drew out a heavy dark, slightly rusted metal case with a first aid cross sign on it. He blew on it, bringing up a small cloud of dust, and wiped at it. He put it up on the counter, opened it and started rifling through it.

"I am sorry, Sammy, but I don't think it's gonna help any!" Edgar argued.

Sam shook his head, "No one else is gonna believe us! Everyone else thinks that we're just a bunch of crazy wingnut kids! You saw how that cop looked at us on the way back! My mom's an adult. People'll believe her!"

"Edgar sit down." Alan commanded.

Edgar and Sam paused in their arguing to look at what Alan was doing. He was threading a needle with line. "Sam, get me some matches." Sam nodded, quickly forgiving Alan upon seeing his sincere seriousness and went through a few drawers.

Edgar shook his head, "Alan, we don't have time for this." Alan ignored his brother, gently pulling Edgar's fatigue shirt off. "Those claws worked like razor blades, there Bro. You currently have four cuts _hanging_ open. And they still haven't stopped bleeding." He yanked Edgar's t-shirt loose from his army pants and started pulling it up.

Edgar pushed his brother's hands away, "They aren't bleeding heavy. We only got two and a half hours till sundown. And we,"

Sam handed Alan a book of matches, "Here you go."

Alan set the matchbook down and drew a bottle out of the first aid case. He yanked some paper towels off of the kitchen roll, and folded them up. He splashed the paper towels with the clear liquid from the bottle he'd pulled from the case, "We can take this time to get a plan and get our bearings. I think we should probably see if Lucy will help us. We need all we can get at this point. These guys are strong, and you killed one of their clan so they are most likely very _pissed_." Only then did Edgar let his brother pull up his t-shirt and remove it, making sure to keep Edgar's right arm as immobile as possible to avoid irritating the bleeding claw marks.

Sam rubbed at his face, "Sheesh, that's the friggin' understatement of the year. I thought I was a goner." Edgar looked at Sam. "Alright then, fine. I sup-" he stopped abruptly, flinching and grunting when Alan ran the cleansing alcohol covered paper towel across the gashes in his shoulder. He started again, more strained this time, "I suppose your mom might be able to help us. Maybe she can rally some more people or something…even though I prefer to be on my own."

Alan nodded, lighting a match and running the threaded needle through the flame, "I do too. But at this point in time, I'm open to a couple of volunteers. It'd be nice not to get dead this evening." Then he pushed the needlepoint through Edgar's skin on the edge of the highest gash.

Sammy looked queasy as he watched Alan slowly stitch up Edgar's gashes. He shook his head, "I thought you guys didn't know doctor stuff."

Edgar and Alan looked at Sammy. Edgar shook his head, "No, I said that I didn't know sick. We know cuts, bruises and big _bloody_ gashes. And how to set several broken bones."

Sammy looked away from Alan pushing the needle through Edgar's flesh, starting to close the fourth and final claw mark down. "How can that…? I think a hospital would've been," "Yeah, well, Sammy, we hardly have time for this, let alone a hospital that would take us an hour and a half to drive there!" Edgar snapped.

Alan shook his head, "I think from here it actually would've been an hour and ten minutes, but I agree with Edgar. We don't have time for hospitals. The only way we're going there today is if we're being wheeled into the morgue as ripped apart, unidentified bodies."

"If they get lucky and find our bodies." Edgar pointed out.

Sam shivered, "You guys are _so_ comforting…"

* * *

Edgar glanced up at the sinking sun from where they stood waiting outside the video tape store that Sam's mom worked at. Alan noticed his brother shifting his weight from foot to foot the entire two minutes that Sam had been in there, trying to get his mom to help them. He ran his thumbs along the worn rubber of the handlebars on his bike.

"You know you could've at least taken a Tylenol." He muttered.

Edgar grunted in response.

"Not like it was gonna dope you up. It was a _Tylenol_." He said, a little louder this time.

Edgar gave his brother a stern look that said that he was done talking about it. Alan gave a half-smile in response to it. That made Edgar roll his eyes and look back into the store impatiently.

Then Alan nudged his brother, "I gotta say though, even though it wasn't a…_clean_ kill…it was pretty awesome." Edgar cocked an eyebrow at his brother, and then scoffed, "That's because I'm an awesome monster basher." "We're on our own." Sam sighed disappointedly as he slumped out of the video store. Edgar nodded, "Just the way we like it."


	20. Get Dead

**Psh, well I went to Homecoming tonight. It technically wasn't even Homecoming. It was Endcoming or something because it was to celebrate the end of the soccer season...? It's my school's first Homecoming in like sixteen years so I've never been to one in my life. Homecoming Queen, King and the Court? That's a cheap Prom knockoff! As far as I'm concerned, it was just another dance that I shouldn't have stinkin' gone to. A waste of my five bucks and my time. **

**Am I the only one who feels...not right while attending their school's dances? I feel like I don't fit in. Like, I'm friends with everyone and I drift from clusterfuck to clusterfuck. But I don't get to stay very long because eventually the space they made for me to fit into will just close up and I'll be face to face with their backs. I just don't feel like I fit, or belond there. On the other hand I went to A-prom last year which is basically a big fat Rainbow Gay, Lesbian, Bi, Pan, Trans, Andro, Tri etc Etc Etc Prom full of grind-lines, music variety, dancing, more grind-lines, making out, skimpy outfits, and floating blown up condoms that had lubed up the floor making it simple for me to dance like Michael Jackson and Brittany Lopez all in one...and I felt right at home. Hell I was a pimp! I made out with 5 girls, kissed 1 girl, made out with 3 guys. So I'm thinking perhaps it's just Straight-Breeder dances that I don't fit into. Or is it because I go to school with the ones at school dances? Ugh...am I the only one?**

**Dudes! I was doing a review of the original script and studying some specific scenes I needed to stay true to for this chapter. Remember when Edgar, Alan and Sam are in Sam's bedroom? The part right before Laddie explodes from the mattress, magically flinging sheetrock, toilet paper, pipe cleaners and streamers up into the air and keep them in the air as if there's a _vent_ under his feet...**

**Sam says "I nailed one of'em downstairs with a bow and arrow." **

**To which Alan replies... "Alright, _Sam-O_." **

**O_O Dude, this has been my favorite movie since I was 3! I always friggin thought that Alan had called him _'Sambo'_! Ya know, like Rambo? I'm apparently not the only one because '_Sambo'_ has been used in SEVERAL LB fics I've read. **

**It's kinda sad...haha, but I used Sambo anyway! XDD Rebellious I am!**

**Oh and, seeing as a satellite has re-entered the Earth's atmosphere, and scientists with their big satellite radars, big computers and toys...have NO...FUCKING...CLUE...where the pieces of it...are gonna LAND...I suggest you hold onto your butts, wear a helmet, eat ketchup, don't swim in the toilet and blow your nose! Seriously though, everyone stay safe and don't go out Looney Toon style with a giant hunk of metal landing on your head... **

* * *

"Don't _fucking_ let him go out there!" Edgar yelled. "Stop him!"

But it was futile. Sammy was already out the door and sprinting down the driveway to the gate; all to rescue his goddamned dog. Edgar understood that Sam had raised the Husky since puppyhood, but he didn't believe in trading his friend's life for him.

He kept everyone from running further than the doorway. "Get him Michael!" He added to the chaos of words. He felt Star freeze beside him and saw her expression melt into pure terror. Then he himself felt a shiver run up his spine and he could swear that in the distance he heard a colony of bats.

"Michael they're coming!" She screamed.

Edgar looked into the dark night sky. He grabbed his brother's shoulder and pointed. Alan looked frantically away from Sam and to where his brother pointed.

_Jesus fucking Christ…_

Worse than a horror movie. Off in the distance in the sky came three figures. Eyes glowed a demonic yellowish amber in the darkness.

"Move your asses!"

"Get him Michael!"

"They're getting closer!"

"Run!"

"Hurry!"

"They're coming!"

Terror burned like acid in Edgar's throat. But he bit it back and grabbed the back of Sammy's shirt to get him inside. Alan and Michael shut the doors hard behind them and pulled the locks and blockaded it. "Take them upstairs!" Michael instructed.

Edgar and Alan ushered Star and Laddie up the stairs yelling out encouragement for the need to go faster. _Someone_ had just come blasting through the goddamned fireplace that the brother had lit up earlier in a raging inferno! Alan felt the adrenaline pumping wildly through his veins as he herded Star and Laddie toward Mike's bedroom. He jumped the last step and grunted to his brother, "If we survive this, I'll let _you_ fuck _me_."

Alan slammed Michael's bedroom door shut behind them. His brother growled, "If we're gonna survive this, then the shitsuckers gotta get dead! I say we stake'em right now!"

"Laddie _run_!" Star screamed. Alan turned and quickly followed after his brother who had a stake gripped in his hand. They ran through to the bathroom in pursuit and then through Sam's room. Star made it into the hallway just as the door suddenly slammed shut behind her.

And then there the brothers were. Sharing the room with a horrific face with razor sharp fangs, messed up long blonde hair, and angry, demonic, amber eyes. It…he…that…laughed and took a step toward them.

Edgar raised his stake. Alan raised his holy water gun. But the vampire cackled, knocking the weapons from their hands with the greatest of ease. Unarmed and face to face with the living dead, they were forced to start backing up quickly, right back into the bathroom.

The two of them had always pictured their first face off with a vampire. They had imagined some deep manly instinct would rise up and together they'd kick the shit out of the suck monkey. But now, their instincts were failing them. What had been awakened now was the fight or flight principle. And it had them backing up across the bathroom.

"You!" It yelled, pointing a claw in Edgar's face, making him jump back. "_You_ killed Marko!"

Edgar had no clue who Marko was, but something told him that it was the littlest vampire that he'd jabbed a hole in, causing it to literally spring a leak. He admittedly had been worrying to himself that he might not have killed it, because it had still been writhing when they'd swiftly fled the chamber. It hadn't exploded, or imploded, or anything at all that had happened in every single vampire comic book he had studied.

But learning that he had killed it reminded him of his actions earlier that day. He puffed his chest out a little, reaching behind him toward the short stake from his back pocket that he'd fashioned from melted and compacted aluminum. "Yeah! And you're next!" He yelled, yanking the short stake and springing forward to plunge it into the vampire's chest.

But he was met with a hearty slap and a shove. His aluminum stake clattered across the bathroom and Edgar was launched back a few steps, "No, _you're_ next you little shit!" Alan pounced forth when the monster raised his claws to slash at his brother whom had collapsed against the bathtub.

The beast let out a roaring laugh, catching Alan by the throat.

Alan grabbed at the creature's wrist, pulling in a gasp and yelling out in pain as the claws cut into his flesh. Edgar shook the dizziness from his head which had hit the corner of the tiles lining the wall around the bathtub. The first thing he saw was the claws of the vamp reach and grab Alan by the hair and yank his head to one side. His…its mouth opened and its fangs tore into the side of Alan's neck, making him scream out.

"Alan!" He scrambled to his feet, bracing himself against the bathtub. His eyes fell into the garlic soaking in the holy water. He scooped up the water in his cupped hands, "Eat holy water, dead breath!"

The holy water splashed across the exposed skin of the vamp's face, and he or that dropped a coughing and gagging Alan as if he were a water balloon of holy water that it had busted with his or its claws. Edgar tossed another scoop of holy water at it, encouraged by the pain-filled shrieks. The smell of burning flesh filled the bathroom as Edgar fell down beside his brother who was clutching at his bleeding throat.

Alan spit, and his saliva was a deep red. "Edgar…Edgar…"

Twisted Sister yanked his hands from his face and threw a glare down at the brothers. Bits of his face were burned away and nothing was left to fill the voids except fleshy holes that bled down his cheeks.

Alan panted out curses. Edgar grasped him tightly as the beast loomed over them. He wasn't exactly looking forward to dying. Most of his stakes were downstairs at the dining room table where he and Alan had smeared camo war paint across their faces. And his holy water gun had fallen out of his belt at some point in their scramble to get up the stairs.

"Do your worst, you shitsucking son of a _bitch_!" Alan spit.

Enlightened and joyed by his brother's unwillingness to leave this world without kicking, biting and _cursing_, Edgar added, "Bring it on, suck monkey!"

But he couldn't help the fearful shiver that ran down his spine as the vamp stepped toward them. He also couldn't help the fact that he was gripping Alan with such a terrified vigor.

There was a deep bark and in came bounding Nanook. With a snarl he jumped from the floor and onto the vamp he landed, shoving the crazy haired creature backward. Right into the bathtub which brought up a steaming splash. The high-pitched vampiric scream that followed was bloodcurdling.

Alan and Edgar had never heard such agony, even in the horror movies. And dear god the _smell_… It was the most putrid thing either brother had ever had rush into their noses. It was worse than that time in which a house cat got stuck beneath their house during a winter rainstorm flood. The body had been decomposing and full of maggots and all kinds of insects when Edgar had finally crawled under the house to see what it was after days of wondering where the awful stench was coming from.

Steam arose from the bathtub, the splashing water subsided and the scream ended.

Edgar and Alan looked at one another. Edgar sat up cautiously, keeping a protecting arm over his brother as he got his feet under him and leaned toward the bathtub. Only to fall back beside his brother with a scream when a bloody, writhing form rose from the bathtub with holes burned down right to the bone. Alan hoarsely joined in his brother's scream as the body gave a final jerk, fighting for life and failing, before sinking back into the water.

The silence had only a second to settle before the sinks started teetering and spraying blood like of fountain from hell. Edgar grabbed Alan's fatigues and dragged him to his feet. "Jesus Christ let's get out of here!" He quickly closed his mouth to keep the bloody water from splashing into it. They grabbed their weaponry from the floor. Then together they waded through the slosh and spray into Sam's bedroom. They had to pull the door together in order to get it shut tight to keep the water out.

Once the door was shut, Alan leaned hard against Sam's closet door, ignoring the pretty boy in the poster that was rubbing his polished abs. Edgar still had his brother's fatigues in his fists. And he could feel Alan trembling slightly in his grip as either of them panted. But he didn't think it was entirely from the terror. After ensuring that the room was empty, he looked over his brother in fear. Blood drenched the collar of Alan's fatigues and stained his hand a deep red. "Let me see," Edgar murmured shakily.

Alan moved his hand only slightly but it was enough to see the two oval puncture wounds from the bite, deepest and bloodiest at the fang points.

"Jesus Christ," Edgar hissed. He looked around him and yanked down one of Sammy's ridiculous shirts that was draped over one of the closet doors. He slipped it into Alan's hand and pressed it firmly to the bite.

_Shit, shit, shit._

"You spit out blood. Did it puncture your windpipe?" Edgar asked.

"I don't think so." Alan murmured. Edgar paused and looked seriously at his brother. Alan squared his jaw and adjusted himself so he was slumping a little more straightly against the closet. "His face just about exploded all over me. I don't think I swallowed any of his blood. But you know full well that all it could take is a drop or two. Either the fucking head vampire gets dead tonight, or _I_ do Edgar."

And Edgar's eyes widened. Edgar knew exactly what Alan was instructing him to do without even hearing him actually say it. His teeth ground together and he grabbed his brother's fatigues and yanked him close. "You talk shit like that, I swear to god I'll beat you within an inch of your life. Either the head vampire gets dead tonight, or we _all_ most likely will!" He shoved his brother away and growled, "You selfish _bastard_."

He went over to the end of Sam's bed where they had placed the big metal first aid case. They had called Sam's room the Virgin Islands for the night. The place of safety in the house. Edgar doubted now, after seeing the intensity of raw vampire power, that anywhere in the house was safe. He yanked a bottle of peroxide from the case and went back to Alan.

He yanked Sammy's shirt from Alan's pressuring hand and splashed it with the peroxide. Then he none too gently placed it over the bite. Alan bit down on the inside of his lip and grunted. He felt the white roam overtake the puncture wounds and watched as his brother pulled out a roll of bandages and a tin of some old fashioned wound balm.

Alan chuckled quietly, "Think I'll need a tetanus shot, Bro?"

Edgar looked at Alan as he made him lower the shirt. He shook his head, "I think you need a good shot of Frog juice. If you are a halfie, it'd fry your stomach up real nicely." Alan chuckled again, "That sounds good right about now." His brother dipped his fingers into the tin and slathered the wounds gently with the old fashioned balm.

He wound the roll of bandages around Alan's neck loosely enough so he could breathe, but tight enough that the wound was entirely protected. He used his teeth to cut an end, just as there was a sudden roar of rock music from downstairs. Both brothers ears perked and seriousness overtook their faces. Alan tucked the end of the bandage into the pieces already encircling his neck and Edgar hit the lights.

Without a word, they both hid themselves in the darkest spots in Sam's room, listening intently. There was a loud electrical explosion that sent a shudder through the house's wiring. Silently they waited. And then they tensed when they heard heavy footsteps approaching. _Something_ entered the room and shut the door behind them.

Edgar and Alan tensed on opposite sides of the room and both of them sprang forth, their holy water guns a-squirting.

"Ah! Shh! Shh! It's okay! It's me!"

Relief flooded their veins and even dulled the ache in Alan's neck. After their separation and the noise downstairs, they'd been worried about their friend on the underside of worrying about each other. Edgar held firmly onto Sammy's arm and whispered, "Are you okay?" He saw the scratches on his face and the tear in the arm of his sweater that was lined with blood.

Sam nodded, and his voice shook in adrenaline, excitement and fear. "I nailed one of'em downstairs with Mike's bow and arrow. The one that looks like Navajo Joe."

"Alright, Sambo." Alan praised.

"He nicked me a couple times though and, _shit_, what happened to you?" Sam asked, seeing the bandages around Alan's neck from the moonlight seeping through his bedroom window.

Edgar explained with a smirk, "Got in a scuffle up here. We fucking trashed the one that looks like Twisted Sister." Alan scoffed, starting to feel giddy, either from the fear, the bloodloss, or the fact that he, his brother and his friend were slicing through vampires like butter. "We totally _annihilated_ his night-stalking ass."

"Nanook helped a little." Edgar relented.

Sam's smile broadened proud of his dog. "Nanook? Where is he?"

Edgar shook his head, "Dunno. He took off when the blood started spraying all over. He's probably fine. He can obviously kick some ass by himself."

"Not the only one around here!" Sam whispered.

And somehow the three became the young boys that they actually were for a brief moment. They couldn't help but feel pride in their accomplishments. Sure they were wounded, but that didn't matter. They'd come out on top.

"Death to _all_ vampires."

"_Maximum_ fucking body count, man."

Edgar shook his fist, "We are awesome monster-bashers."

"The meanest." Alan added.

"The baddest."

They grabbed one another's hands and raised symbolic hand signs of victory and the encouragement to rock on forever. Their youthful moment seemed to fade away at that exact second. This was because all hell broke loose and Sam's bed exploded in a cloud of mattress debris from which emerged a screaming Laddie with a monstrous face, piercing fangs, and wild amber eyes.


	21. Hello Mr Head Bloodsucker

**Merry Christmas! Have all of you been naughty or nice? Most likely naughty because you're reading an incesty, Frogcesty, violent, rated M fan fiction! You sickos! Worry not my friends, for I'm probably more sicko than all of you because EYE wrote it! XDD **

**I feel really bad that I haven't updated in so long. But Senior school year plus everlasting shifts at Target cashiering for crazy holiday shoppers and last-minute cramming shoppers, and homework all on top of that is a pain in the ass. I'm actually looking forward to getting laid off because I have to travel down one mountain, across a flat through the valley, over another mountain and down it again, over the river and through the woods to the teddy bear picnic and lions and tigers and bears oh my to just fucking get to work. Sure the gas prices over there are WONDERFUL, lowest I saw was $3.19 a gallon. Here in my hometown it's $3.45! **

**I'll try and be more punctual with my updates especially since things are heating up in the world of Clandestine! And I'm not talking about Frogcest either! Confrontations will be made! Blood will be shed! Violence will break out! Aaaaaaaaaand, I might just leave you with a cliffhanger XDD _Again_... **

**Don't be too mad at me though. I hope my update has brightened up your Christmas weekend. It's my present. Oh also your Hanukkah, your Quanza, your...whatever you celebrate present...O_O Uh...happy holidays? Happier than mine at least, Christmas will be pushed back for me this year as my older brother is in the hospital after a car accident. If he'd been a smaller man (he's 6'2 and nearly 300 pounds, he's a big guy, not fat but bulky) he'd be dead now and I'm just glad he's alive. He'll be okay though, just out of action for three months while wearing a halo while being bored out of his mind, so no worries.**

* * *

Alan grunted when Laddie's Chucks stomped over him. The three boys looked into the corner beside the door where the little beast was bracing himself, glaring at them with wide demonic eyes and baring his pointed teeth at him, breathing out growls. It had to be the freakiest thing any of them had ever seen. Sure they'd been dealing with plenty of scary vampires today, but they were big, and this one was a little _kid_. It was wrong and creepy in so many ways.

Seeing innocence tainted by such a curse…_that_ was freaky.

"Holy _shit_!" Alan looked at Edgar and Sam who were littered with pieces of Sam's bed. "It's the attack of Eddie fuckin' Munster!"

"Get him!"

The three boys shoved themselves to their feet and weapons in hand sprang toward the little terror.

That's when Star came bursting out of the closet, standing between the boys and Laddie. "Stop it! You just stay away from him!" Tears touched her eyes for her little companion. "He's just a little boy…"

She wrapped an arm around Laddie when the little abomination tried to slip around her. His little clawed hand tried swiping at them around Star, and out of his mouth spewed grunts and preying growls. Sam shrunk away in fear. The brothers frowned in disgust down at the little monstrosity.

"SO—IS—_MINE_!"

The three boys and Star froze at the faint yell. Even Laddie paused, his fangs bared and his amber eyes looking around. "That's Michael!" Sam squeaked, but halfway through his words, there was a bloodcurdling scream of pain that echoed through the house; which was already groaning from the bloody water spraying out of any crack and opening it could escape.

"_Shit_!" Edgar hissed, and holstered his holy water gun and listening hard in the new silence. Star picked up Laddie and shoved him into the closet, "_Stay here_, Laddie. Just stay here okay?"

Alan shook his head when the little unholy freak of nature nodded in promising and shifted back as Star closed the closet doors. Then she shoved past the boys and left the room. "Watch it! It's not safe!" Sam shrieked, trying to grab at her. But she was rushing down the stairs, diving headfirst into a possibly deadly situation, calling, "Michael? Michael?"

The brothers glanced at each other and went after her. Sam gaped, "Wait for me! Don't leave me alone!" He hurried down the stairs after them. Edgar led the way, hand poised for his holy water gun. Alan followed close behind, hand gripped on a stake, and teeth clenched. Sam was hardly a step behind him, calling his brother's name when he no longer heard Star doing it.

Edgar froze in the archway to Grandpa Emerson's red-lit room of taxidermy gore. Alan grabbed onto his shoulder and saw what his brother saw and he grinned in triumph, "Yeah!" Sam joined them and gasped, and gagged when he saw what they saw, covering his mouth and looking away.

There was the last vampire. The Head Vampire as Michael had described to them. Big, bad, blonde David. All dressed in black David. Conniving, strong, deviant, manipulating, cunning, dominant David. Well there was David, laid out with a pair of long, bloody antelope antlers run through his chest, the one obviously piercing the heart. There was David, limp and unmoving, and very _dead_.

"Get away Sam." Came a lowly growl from the left. The three boys threw their gaze to the voice and found Star looking back at them, worriedly. Behind her, Michael was shielding himself from view in the shadows, keeping a firm grip on Star to keep her from moving and revealing him.

"Mike, what's wrong?" Sam asked worriedly as he panted. "I said _GET AWAY_!" came the angry response when Sam took a step toward him. Sam, in turn, jumped back.

Edgar shook his head, "What's the big deal? You destroyed the Head Vampire! It's all over."

Michael's voice vibrated with an inhuman growl as he spoke again. "Nothing's changed."

Star swallowed and gasped, "He's right, I don't feel any different."

Edgar's eyebrows lowered and Alan's jaw clenched. The Frog brothers looked at one another, nearly glaring at one another, silently communicating about what they'd just been told. Edgar said quietly, "Then there's one more…"

Alan glanced silently around. _One more…there could be a _hundred_ more for all we know. _

"Sam? Michael?"

"Shit!" Sam whispered as the three boys turned their heads toward the foyer where Lucy's voice was coming from.

Sam looked back toward Michael and Edgar saw him Mike sink further into the shadows. "I'll handle Mom." Then Edgar and Alan felt Sam grab their shoulders. He turned them around, away from Star, Michael and the unmoving David. He steered them back through the foyer and he murmured to them, "Don't let her see any of the bodies."

Edgar snorted, "That's gonna fuckin' be easy."

Alan muttered, "Gonna have to hose Navajo Joe off the walls to make that possible there, dipshit." Sam elbowed them both, and squeaked, "Shut up!"

Lucy was interrogating up a storm and Sam dragged her away towards the dining room, trying to remind her of some fucking food fight…? Edgar was trying to give it to the woman straight somewhat truthfully, trying to lie better than Sammy was freakin' doing.

"The _hell_? This has _nothing_ to do with a food fight!"

"Mom, just listen to me,"

"Sam! I want to know what's going on here! Where's Michael?"

"Calm down, Mrs. Emerson,"

"Mom, seriously, do you remember that time me and Michael,"

"This place is a mess! What's going on here?"

"Hold up just a second, I'm the head Frog here and I'm trying to,"

"Mom! Please just,"

Then Lucy pointed a finger at Sam and started across the foyer, "_Enough_ Sam, I don't want to hear another word from you until I talk to Michael!" Sammy winced, having not heard his mother speak so seriously and harshly since she and his father had argued and fought until their divorce back in Phoenix.

"I'm sorry, Lucy." Came a sincere voice from the entrance to Grandpa Emerson's slaughter house.

Everyone looked over and found the tall, awkward, nerdy, innocent Max entering the foyer. "This is all my fault. David and my boys misbehaved," Edgar's jaw muscle twitched when he heard the word misbehaved laced with a chuckle. The hair on the back of Alan's neck stood up when Max removed his glasses and smiled apologetically, still approaching. He gestured to Lucy with his glasses, "But I told you, boys need a mother."

"Max, what are you talking about?" Lucy asked with her delicate, questioning voice.

_Shit…_ Edgar thought.

_Is this really fucking going down right now? _Alan's skull danced with this frantic realization. He pressed his hand to the painful throbbing in the bite on the side of his neck. He swore he could feel a magnetic pull as Max looked somberly into the lit fireplace.

Lucy took a step back, obviously creeped out, bumping into Sam as she did. "Wait a second, I _knew_ it! _You're_ the Head Vampire!" Sam exclaimed.

Edgar slipped back into the dining room, Alan instinctively stepping back with him. _Nice Sammy, keep using your idiot charm to antagonize the fucking Head Vampire. Hope you're still alive when we get back in there._

"Sam, don't start this again," Lucy scolded firmly.

"You're the secret that David was protecting." Star said as she emerged from the shadows, circling around Max warily as he glanced over his shoulder at her with a slight nod and a hum of agreement and another smiling, airy chuckle.

Edgar lifted a couple of carving knives from Lucy's stainless steel set and passed one to Alan, hardly believing what he was hearing in the next room.

Lucy stared at Star in surprise, "Who's this?"

The brothers reentered and Alan kept the knife raised in front of him, ready to strike. "But you passed all the tests."

Max paused, studying the bandages secured around Alan's neck. Alan could feel his gaze, good god how he wanted to just gouge those playing innocent eyes out. He could feel the bite throbbing painfully now, slowly heating up, bringing a bead of sweat to his temple.

Then Max lowered his eyebrows a bit, making a face that Alan and Edgar would recognize as 'pshhh, you dillhole' or 'nice going, numbskull' or in Max's case:

"Don't _ever_ invite a vampire into your house, you silly boy. It renders you powerless." He said, looking directly into Sam's eyes. He raised his eyebrows in a done's-done sort of way and gazed back into the flames in the fireplace.

"Did you know that?" Sam asked Edgar around his mother who was looking around at everyone as if they'd all gone entirely mad.

Edgar looked sternly at Sam, "_Yes_, I did. Now who the _hell_ invited this suck monkey beanpole inside the house?" Lucy looked to Edgar suddenly, appalled at his vocabulary and she exclaimed looking all around the room, "Has everyone gone crazy here? What is the matter with all of you?"

Sam shuddered when Max turned his calm gaze back toward Lucy. And he felt his stomach turn when he spoke, "It was you I was after all along Lucy." Sam took a step in front of her and he felt her jump beside him, grasping his arm. Edgar poised the long thin knife in his hand, jaw clenching. _So he was after the female of the clan the whole time. Take out all the others and take his prize… _Edgar thought.

"I knew…that if I could get Sam and Michael…into the family…there's no way you could say no." Max said, and Sam thought he could puke from all of the images bursting through his brain. Vampires Everywhere come to life is what it was except it was happening to him and his family.

_Or bring everyone over to the dark side of the fence giving her no choice but to follow…_Edgar corrected himself.

Lucy was starting to feel threatened at this point. She sternly asked, no commanded, "Where's Michael?"

But Max wouldn't deter. "It was all going to be so perfect, Lucy…" And he stared off into space for a moment.

The brothers, Sam and Lucy took a few steps back. Alan felt a palpitation grasp his heart and he sucked in a quiet gasp. His vision clouded up slightly around the edges and he could feel people screaming. Hear them bleeding. Smell them dying. He could still see what was happening in front of him, but it was as if Max's imaginings were passing through his senses. He looked to his brother who still had his cold glare fixed on Max, not seeming to hear, feel or smell what Alan could. _Oh shit…_

"Just like one big, happy family." Max murmured into the air. Then he turned his gaze back toward Lucy, gesturing toward her with his glasses, "Your boys," He rotated his torso slightly to look back toward Grandpa Emerson's taxidermy crime scene, "and my boys."

Edgar growled with his deep voice, "_Great_. The blood-sucking Brady Bunch! You're _insane_!"

And then Max turned back around.

Max's skin had grayed, his forehead had protruded, his eyebrows angled, his eyes glowed angry amber and his teeth had extended into a pair of pointed fangs. The stuffed lion behind him paled, shivered and tucked its tail in between its legs in comparison to what stood before them now. "But I still want you Lucy," He growled, his long tongue flicking out from between his teeth.

Lucy and Sam screamed. Star jumped and gasped in terror. Edgar ground his teeth, unwilling to accept his fear. Alan felt a shudder travel across and down his chest. He shook his head quickly, trying to get the whispering voices out of it, trying to keep his eyes from rolling back into his skull.

Then finally, Michael stepped out from the shadows, housing similar features to Max but his skin wasn't gray but flushed and shined with sweat and undried blood from his previous fight that had caused David's death. His amber eyes glared and his fanged mouth growled, "I didn't invite you this time, _Max_."

Edgar heard Lucy speak softly Michael's name, horrified and worried. Edgar couldn't blame her. Michael was not a pretty sight, not as bad as Papa Vampire over there but still pretty bad. Max turned and laughed demonically at the challenge. Michael charged forward, claws raised to slash at Max's throat.

"MICHAEL NO!" Lucy screamed as Max turned the tables and caught Michael around the throat instead. He sent him flying upward, crashing through the railings on the floor above them where he laid still, a foot hanging over the edge. Lucy jumped forward, looking up at her first-born, "Michael!"

Star sprang forward with a broken rod of wood that might have been a hat stand at one point in its life span. But Max caught the rod in his big, clawed hands and sent her back, flying across the room and crashing to the floor.

The Frog brothers sprang forward together, yelling out battle cries. Max shoved Edgar back sending him over a wooden cable spool that passed as a coffee table, knocking the knife from his grip. And at the same time, he seized Alan by the bite in his neck. Alan's eyes shut tightly and he yelled out in pain, grabbing the clawed hand as smoke started to rise from the broken skin of the bite.

"_Kill_ your brother." The beast growled inhumanly throwing Alan into the air where he clung to a rafter.

Sam shouted, "Don't you touch my mother you shit-sucking bastard!" and he lunged at Max, barehanded and weaponless, ready to fight to the death to protect his mom.

Edgar coughed having had the wind knocked out of him. His vision swayed a second and then focused to the beams high above them on the ceiling. "Alan?" he whispered in horror.


	22. Animals

**Well, my loving, sicko children of my sicko army, the final chapter has finally come. This fiction has been going on for a long time, maybe a little too long. I know that some of you have given up hope on me and lost interest in this story. But I daresay, I made the end finish with a big bang! Hehe, literally, a humor, and a _banging_...mehehe. Actually a double-banging if you think about it...**

**I'm sorry that it took so long to reach this point, but I really do feel proud of Sweat It Out, and Clandestine as a story. My writing has only gotten better with all of you cheering me on and loving this story. I love you all for that. I don't care how small the Lost Boys fandom is, or how small the group of Alan/Edgar lovers are. I'm glad I got to contribute to it. **

**For those of you who are sad to see the end, no worries. I'm not going to disappear!**

**Now, I will sign off on Clandestine one last time...enjoy the final chapter!**

**And dare I say it? Yes I do!**

**Keep on the lookout!**

**Tawny**

* * *

His arms and legs clung around the beam. His head was turned and he stared down at Edgar. His black hair hunt free and mussed without his beret that lay abandoned on the floor. His eyes glowed an angry amber. Edgar saw a whet pair of fangs glinting in his mouth as his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

And then suddenly, Alan dropped from the ceiling, fangs bared and a growl grinding out from his throat. Edgar's muscles snapped to the quick. He seized Alan's forgotten beret and covered Alan's face with it just as he came down upon him.

He grunted as the wind left his lungs again when Alan landed hard on him. Alan blindly lashed as Edgar pressed the beret to his face. Edgar pulled in a craggy breath and turned the tables, slamming Alan to the floor and straddling him.

"It's so much better if you don't fight…" Edgar heard Max purr beyond the racing pulse he could feel pounding like drums in his ears.

"_Tell me what I did, Goddamnit!"_

Alan's flailing hand found Edgar's throat.

"_I only want you."_

Edgar gagged and grasped Alan's wrist.

"_Just hold still…I wanna try something." _

Alan did the same, peeling the beret away from his face by pulling at Edgar's wrist.

"_Dig out your trunks. We're going to the beach today."_

Edgar pulled in a suffocated breath and choked out, "Fight it, Alan!"

"_What are you kidding me? We fuck all the time!"_

Alan threw himself forward, pinning Edgar down on the floor.

"_Fine, Edgar. They're just pleasuuure marks."_

One hand gripped Edgar's throat and the other shackled Edgar's right wrist against the floor.

"_Just me and you."_

Edgar looked directly into Alan's raging amber eyes.

"_Fucking vampires."_

A drop of saliva fell from Alan's fang as he hissed.

"_Seems like I'm always taking care of you, Bro."_

"Alan, please!" Edgar gasped.

"_I dunno how we're gonna fight for truth, justice and the American way if we're fucking all the time."_

Edgar's free hand found a splinter in the wreckage and he thrust it into Alan's shoulder blade.

"_First come, first staked."_

Alan recoiled and yelled out.

"_I gotta say though, even though it wasn't a…clean kill…it was pretty awesome."_

Edgar seized the pained surprise and threw himself on top of Alan, gasping for air.

"_Do your worst, you shitsucking son of a bitch!"_

From his belt Edgar yanked out a redwood stake that he'd made from a walking stick he'd found amongst their parents' hippie-age belongings.

"…_Either the fucking head vampire gets dead tonight, or I do Edgar."_

Edgar raised the stake high, point aimed toward Alan's heart.

"Mom! Don't do it!" He vaguely heard Sam yell. "No!"

Tears burned his eyes and blurred his vision.

And then there was a loud, blaring musical horn. Edgar turned his head, frozen by the blinding lights taking over the windows. And then a bruising blow landed in the middle of his chest and he was launched backwards. Grandpa Emerson's truck came in through the front doors, backwards, and long, pointed fence posts flew from the bed.

They cut through the air where Edgar had been milliseconds before and impaled a shocked Max that had been sent forward by an unfriendly shove from a recovered Michael.

Max fell back into the fireplace, and like a spark to gunpowder, there was a booming, flaming explosion. Max's agonized scream filled the room. The fireplace was engulfed in flames that rose like a spherical curtain, blinding everyone in the room. The house shook with the magnitude of the dying vampire whose suffering roar echoed lively throughout the floorboards and rafters.

Unable to look away, Edgar yanked on his goggles, feeling the triumph, fear, adrenaline, near-death and killing experiences flooding through his veins.

The house trembled as the flames died, and from the fireplace, a cloud of black ash and soot emerged, filling the room. He coughed, covering his mouth against the air littered with the dark dust. The giddiness suddenly left him and the fear came back. He ripped off his goggles and called, "Alan?"

Someone spit behind him. He turned his head and found Alan scooting up to settle beside him, dog tags clinking.

"Everybody okay?" Michael asked, bewildered and disbelieving.

The upper part of his face was hidden by the dark lensed goggles.

"Star! Star!" Laddie called excitedly.

With his gloved hand, Alan reached up and pulled the goggles off of his sooty face.

"Laddie!" Star exclaimed, voice shaky with happy tears.

Edgar was greeted by his brother's grimacing dark eyes.

"Mmm. Vampire-flavor. They should patent that." He said before he spit again. Edgar smiled, and looked to his hand where he still clenched Alan's beret. He looked back at his brother and held it out to him. Alan took it, brushed back his hair and slipped it onto his head. "You okay?" Edgar asked.

Alan gave a collected nod, "Yeah. You?"

Edgar nodded slightly, studying Alan's normal features. Just seconds ago, he had taken the form of a hell on earth, half-vampire under the control of a powerful Head Vampire who ordered Alan to kill him. He was a little shaken up, and he hoped that his brother wasn't offended when he said, "Fang check?"

If Alan was offended or hurt, he didn't show it. Instead her reached to his top lip and pulled it up to give Edgar a good look at his teeth. Compelled to equalize himself with his brother, he pushed up his top lip as well while checking his brother's teeth.

Both mouths seemed devoid of inhumanly pointy teeth so the brothers let their lips go.

Edgar glanced around at the blackened faces and then back at his brother. "So…how much do you think we should charge'em for this mess?"

Alan snorted, and pulled his brother to his chest, giving him a gentle hug. Edgar held on when Alan tried to pull away. Alan relented, patting his brother on the back. He chuckled into his ear, "So uh, thanks for _not_ killing me."

Edgar pulled away and looked at his brother. Then he averted his gaze. He murmured, "I couldn't do it..." Alan's smile faded and he touched his brother's arm, comforting him. Then Edgar looked back into his brother's eyes and shook his head, "Oh it's no problem. Consider us even since you saved me from getting fenced…by fucking _punching_ me in the chest."

Alan laughed and pushed himself out of the rubble up to his feet, "I pushed you. _Pushed_. You're such a pansy."

"I should've just staked you." Edgar grunted, joining Alan up on his feet. _I was ready…but I couldn't do it…Christ…you'd better never turn…I'd never be able to do what you asked of me…_

* * *

Alan took a swig of the whiskey from where he was lying on his stomach across the coffee table, wearing nothing but a pair of clean boxers. He ground his teeth together as it burned his throat and settled his chin back down against the table. His hair was wet from the shower and some of his bangs clung to his face. He chuckled and said, "I think you're just trying to get me drunk again."

Edgar shook his head from where he sat on the couch, leaned over his brother with tweezers in his hand. "Would you like to feel all of this?"

He slowly pulled the tweezers from Alan's right shoulder. Blood stained them and there was a hearty woodchip clenched in them. Alan chuckled, "Ooh, I felt that one." Edgar sighed quietly and dropped the woodchip into the dirty glass that had a few other bloody wood splinters of a similar size, and several smaller ones.

Edgar looked back to the wound in Alan's shoulder. It hadn't been bleeding before he'd started this improvised surgery. But now it was gently seeping, staining the tweezers and his fingers.

It had been a very long night indeed for the brothers and the Emerson family. They had to deal with cleanup, which turns out Grandpa Emerson knew quite a bit about. Turned out the old fucking man had dealt with his share of vampires.

When Edgar asked him about his hunting tactics, Grandpa Emerson made one thing very clear. "I'm no hunter, son. They leave me alone, and I'll leave them alone." And that was about all Edgar could get him to say about killing vampires.

Alan heaved a sigh, and set the whiskey bottle down. He chuckled, "We may've burrried the vamps in that fucking vampire hotel. We may have tossed some dynamin…dynamo…TNT in there to bring the cave down. But I'm telling you right now, they're s-still gonna be hosing Navajo Joe off the walls 'morrow."

"How much of that thing have you had?" Edgar asked, pressing at Alan's shoulder to open the wound slightly.

Alan chuckled, "It's purrre whiskey…it don't take much…'specially for a guy who don't drink it…An' half the bottle."

Edgar sighed again and touched the center of his chest. It still ached from when Alan had _pushed_ him. Alan glanced over his shoulder at his brother and laid his head down, studying him. Edgar pressed Alan's wound open the other way, looking for any more splinters.

He picked up a flashlight that had survived the night and shined it into the wound. "I can't see anything. Alan. Can you feel anything?"

"Dunno. Press on it."

Edgar hesitated but gently placed his palm over the wound and pressed slightly. He used his other hand and sort of pressed the wound closed. Alan muttered, "Ow. Jeez. No. There ain't nothin' left."

"Good." Edgar said, grabbing a towel and cleaning up his hands a little. He grabbed the needle and stitching he'd prepared, and pressed it through Alan's skin. He started to sew the slightly ragged hole in his brother's shoulder blade closed.

All the while Alan remained quiet, watching Edgar. That is until he asked, "Hey, 'member what I said?"

"What?" Edgar asked, pulling the stitching tight. His own stitches hurt a little, but he ignored it. He was simply looking forward to easing them out of his skin once it was healed enough.

"Hand me th'water. Sober me up."

Edgar paused in his work and reach over to the bottle of holy water and passed it to Alan who over the next ten minutes swallowed it ye oldie tavern style.

When Edgar tied and cut the thread he leaned back into the couch with a sigh. He ran his hand through his dirty hair. He hadn't had the chance to shower yet. "Well, I'm gonna go scrub all the blood, guts, and all kinds of gross shit from my body." He pushed himself up to stand and walked across the living room. He glanced over his shoulder at his brother who still was lying across the coffee table, drinking holy water.

"You gonna be okay for ten minutes?" he asked.

Alan snorted, "You know, I can't thank you enough for stabbing me in the shoulder."

Edgar sighed and flipped him off.

"Ooh." Alan chuckled.

Edgar left the living room and went into the bathroom. He shed the remaining of his clothes, dirty and disgusting from going through Hell and back. His reflection caught his eye before he went to turn on the shower. He leaned forward, turning his head slightly, looking at the bruising around his neck. Then he looked at the four rows of stitches under his collarbone on his shoulder. And then he looked at the blooming bruise on his sternum. It had the shape of Alan's palms pressed together. He shook his head at his reflection and turned on the shower.

He gave it a few minutes to warm up before he stepped under the spray. And when he did, he couldn't help but sigh contently.

His shower turned out to be a lot longer than ten minutes. By the time Edgar had gotten himself somewhat clean, the water had long ago run cold. In his scrubbing, he had knocked loose dirt, blood, and soot from every inch on his body, and found bruises in places he didn't even know he had and had no idea where they came from. After he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, he felt like he was missing twelve layers of skin, but he felt clean, which was enough.

He reached for a towel, and there wasn't one. He sighed and rolled his eyes. He left the bathroom, rubbing water from one of his eyes and went down the hallway to the closet. It was still in its familiar disarray but Edgar managed to yank a clean towel out without collapsing everything within. He closed the door and draped it over his head, ruffling his hair dry.

He heard Alan say something from nearby. He lowered the towel around his shoulders, "What Bro?" He turned and saw Alan come into the hallway, sucking down water. He lowered the water bottle and smirked at Edgar briefly, "Nice outfit." Edgar shook his head at his brother and Alan gestured toward the bathroom, "You done in there?"

Edgar nodded, before pressing the towel to his face. When he looked up, Alan had gone into the bathroom. He heard the faucet run briefly, and then heard Alan start brushing his teeth. He yawned briefly, and stepped into their bedroom. He yanked a clean pair of boxers from the anarchy of their drawers and dried himself before slipping them on.

He retreated from their bedroom and went down the hallway into the bathroom. Alan put his toothbrush down and spit into the sink. Then he looked at Edgar and smiled at him. He stepped out of the way and let Edgar brush his teeth.

Edgar felt his brother's gaze traveling over his skin as he brushed his teeth. But he didn't lay a finger on him, and it drove him nuts. He spit into the sink and cupped his hand under the running water. He swished it around in his mouth and spit into the sink again. He ran the back of his hand across his lips, looking into his brother's dark, hooded eyes.

Alan smirked, leaning close to Edgar.

Edgar tilted his chin downward slightly. Blood pulsed down to his interested penis. He could feel Alan's cool breath against the side of his face. He turned his head, looking into Alan's eyes, inviting him in. But Alan _still_ didn't touch him, and it frustrated him.

Then the asshole then had the nerve to lean away, smirk, go around him and leave the fucking bathroom. Edgar blinked. _Oh _come_ on, what the fuck?_ He looked over his shoulder through the doorway. He turned and left the bathroom. The hallway was empty.

"Uh, Alan?"

He walked down the hallway, glancing into the empty living room and then the bedroom. Alan had his back to him, and he was stepping out of his boxers. And he crawled onto his bed, and settled down on his stomach. Then his dark eyes looked temptingly at him.

Edgar swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat. His erection pressed against the thin fabric of his boxers. He remembered the chaos of the bloodsuckers blasting their way inside of the Emerson house while he and his brother had been running up the stairs at Michael's instruction to take Star and Laddie upstairs. He remembered what his brother had said to him.

_If we survive this, I'll let _you_ fuck _me.

Admittedly, Edgar once in a while briefly wondered what it would be like if he and Alan switched their usual sexual roles. And then he would drift away in a fit of pleasure when Alan's cock would brush against that sensitive whatever it was deep inside of him and he'd forget about it.

He stayed put for a moment. Excited. Edgar knew how amazingly good it felt. He wanted to share that with his brother. But he was also nervous and even a little fearful. He also knew how painful it was the first time. He didn't want to hurt his brother.

Alan shifted, slicking his fingers with spit and then reaching under himself and between his legs.

Edgar's heart jumped in his chest and his erection gave an excited twitch. His brother pressed his fingers inside of himself, still staring into his eyes. He listened to Alan's shallow breath. He studied the want in his brother's dark eyes.

He licked his lips, goose bumps rising on his skin as a shiver scuttled through him. He swallowed and let out a shuddering breath, stepping slowly across the room. Alan's breathing picked up a little, his body shifting on the bed slightly.

Edgar pressed his knee into the mattress and slowly covered his brother with himself. His bare chest pressed against his back. His right hand touched Alan's dark hair. He leaned close, and Alan turning his head to meet his kiss.

Alan pressed his tongue into Edgar's mouth breathily. Edgar welcomed it, and pressed back, tasting his freshly brushed tongue.

With his other hand, he touched Alan's side. His palm glided smoothly up his side and across his chest. He felt Alan's chest muscles tense and his shuddery breath against his lips. Alan turned away from the kiss, hanging his head with a groan.

Edgar ran his hand down and held Alan's erection. He kissed his brother's shoulder and licked the nape of his neck. Alan grunted, feeling Edgar's clothed erection pressing against the back of his thigh.

He withdrew his fingers from his insides and reached back to grasp Edgar's thigh. He fisted his boxers and pulled on them. Edgar felt his boxers slip off of his hips. He obliged his hungry brother, straightening up and dropping his boxers to the floor. But he wouldn't dare penetrate him yet. Edgar felt that Alan wasn't ready yet.

So he slicked his fingers in his mouth, wrapped an arm around Alan's chest and gently pressed two fingers inside of his brother.

Alan breathed quietly, leaning back into his brother. He could feel Edgar's penis pressing solidly against his thigh. He could feel Edgar's warm breath against his shoulder. The hand that came back to slowly stroke his arousal. And most of all the feeling of his brother very slowly pressing his fingers in and out of him, moving them around inside of him, and inserting another finger to join the first two.

He inhaled suddenly, his vision growing dark and his stomach suddenly feeling empty except for a light, airy feeling and the throbbing pulse in his erection. He bit out a gasping moan, fisting the sheets.

Edgar kissed Alan's shoulder blade, encouraged by the sudden jump in his brother. He'd found that one spot inside of him. He knew exactly what Alan was feeling and he envied him a little. But he was overjoyed that Alan finally knew what it felt like. He hooked his fingers inside of his brother, locating that spot again. This time it drove a loud, vigorous grunt from Alan and he groaned.

Edgar's heartbeat picked up a bit and he was panting against Alan's shoulder.

"Edgar…Edgar…_fuck_…Edgar…" Alan breathed, swallowing to wet his throat. He sighed as Edgar removed his preparing fingers. He heard him spit heartily into his hand.

Edgar coated his excited arousal and with his other hand, he nudged Alan's legs further apart. Alan closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Just breathe..." Edgar whispered.

Alan swallowed again, drawing in another long breath through his nostrils. He breathed out slowly against the pillow. He kept his lungs from hitching when he felt his brother's penis pressing ever so gently into him. His eyes shut a little tighter as Edgar pressed further inside of him. He reached down and started to stroke his erection to dull the slight, burning pain. He kept himself still as he felt Edgar slide slowly inside of him, breathing deeply until he realized he was entirely full of his brother.

Edgar bent against his brother, pressing his forehead to the back of Alan's neck. He groaned against his brother's warm skin. It was so hot and tight that it was almost painful. His body wanted so badly to pull away and thrust back inside with raw, uncontrolled force. And for a moment, his mind gave in and he did just that.

Alan grunted when Edgar suddenly pulled back. Then Edgar thrust into him, _hard_, and it drove a pained cry from him, making him clench the sheets in a white-knuckled grip.

"_Shit_…S-s, I'm sorry, _Alan_. I'm _sorry_." Edgar choke, biting down on his lip, reigning in his slipped control. He wrapped his arms tightly around his brother's chest, and pressed his face into his uninjured shoulder blade. "_Fuck_…"

He listened guiltily as Alan's pain-laced breath slowly steadied. He heard him swallow and choke out a breath. He felt Alan's sweaty palm against his left thigh. "S'okay. Just go slower."

"Maybe I shouldn't,"

"No…It's alright…_Please_…" Alan murmured, clenching Edgar's thigh. He turned his head, lifting himself slightly from the bed. Edgar looked into Alan's dark eyes, a little pained but cloudy with interest. So Edgar gave a nod, reassured by his brother.

He started slowly, gentle and careful. His teeth were clenched together with the force of a crashing avalanche. His lips were sealed together. And his muscles were tensed solidly as he forced himself to slowly move in and then out. Despite how amazingly good it felt and how it seemed far too agonizingly slow, Edgar was determined to keep control of what his body begged him for as sweat rolled down his temple.

He pressed his forehead against Alan's uninjured shoulder blade, his breath shallow and contained. He listened intently to his brother, listening for any hint that he was hurting him.

Alan was breathing deeply and quietly. He did his absolute best to keep his muscles slack and relaxed. He was starting to feel what he'd made Edgar feel so many countless times. The pain was hardly half of it. He felt pleasured nerves flare that he'd had no clue existed. He wanted to feel more. He needed to feel more.

With Edgar's next steady thrust, Alan shifted his body back, meeting him. Edgar cried out against Alan's skin. And Alan ground out a sighing groan, his muscles loosened, briefly overtaken with a light, feathery feeling. His belly had a feeling of warm fullness. And blood throbbed in his penis.

Edgar whimpered when Alan shifted forward and then back onto him again. His hands slid across Alan's chest and he gripped Alan's shoulders. He gave a stronger, experimental thrust and nearly salivated at his brother's response of a shivery moan.

Edgar latched his mouth onto the nape of Alan's neck, and started thrusting deeply into his body, giving his body a massive amount of control. Alan lifted his head with a gasp and moan. He yelled out when Edgar sunk his teeth into Alan's neck.

His muscles tensed harder and his body was slick with sweat. He'd never felt anything like it. He thought that he died from bliss when the weight on his body suddenly left him, leaving him feeling relieved, pleasured and blind from the orgasm. And yet, Edgar hardly had time to register his climax or catch his breath when Alan bucked him off. Edgar tumbled from the bed and murmured when he hit the floor.

He let out a breathy, stifled grunt when Alan straddled him and attacked him. He relished the fist in his long hair that dragged him up, meeting Alan's crushing, hungry lips.

Edgar's arms encircled Alan's neck. He panted, moaned and whimpered as his brother continued the furious onslaught of his lips and tongue. His hands gripped Alan's back, making Alan hiss in pain. Edgar pulled away, realizing he'd just scratched at his brother's bad shoulder. "Fuck, I'm sor-"

Alan ignored his words, grabbing his brother's legs and yanked them over his shoulders. Edgar gasped as his body shifted on the floor, pulled by his brother's strong hands. Alan yanked on Edgar's legs again, adjusting his own bodily stance. Edgar was pulled yet closer to his growling brother. His penis throbbed in excitement, hard and recovered from his previous climax.

He threw his head back against the floor with a cry as he felt the familiar feeling of Alan's slickened cock sliding into him. He felt Alan grasp his knees, making him gasp when his brother thrust into him. With another powerful, well-angled thrust, Alan brushed up against that sensitive bundle of nerves that darkened his vision, tensed and relaxed his muscles at the same time and made him yell out.

Alan stared down at his incoherent brother as he thrust quickly and strongly into him, his legs tossed over his shoulders. He growled when he heard Edgar whimper and moan, tossing his head to one side.

"Christ, _Alan_," Edgar choked out.

Alan's hands glided down Edgar's legs and gripped his thighs, pulling him into his next thrust. Edgar threw his head back again, yelling out, his hair splaying across the floor. "Ahh-haaah! _Fuck_! Please, Alan. _Harder_. God…_damnit_!" His heart beat against his chest almost as hard as Alan was pounding into him now. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as he cried out, hardly able to breathe as Alan brushed against that spot inside of him again and again and again.

He screamed out, his back arching against the floor and his stomach was splashed with the production of yet another powerful orgasm. Alan squeezed his eyes shut, bared his teeth and gave a groaning cry, and Edgar gasped, warm semen coating his insides.

His legs slipped, boneless, from his brother's shoulders to the floor. Edgar cast a tired arm over his eyes, letting out a long wheezy sigh as he panted. He struggled briefly to swallow, wetting his dry, breathless throat. His abs clenched briefly and he groaned when Alan pulled himself out of his insides.

Then he felt Alan move away from him. "Al…an?" Edgar breathed, slipping his arm away from his eyes. He looked up at Alan as his arms slipped beneath his body. And Edgar exhaled deeply when Alan lifted him up into his arms briefly, and laid him down upon the bed.

Edgar stirred, exhausted. His brother settled down beside him, drawing the blanket over them silently. Edgar lifted his tired eyes to Alan's. His brother tilted his head slightly down at his brother, looked equally as tired as Edgar, if not more. But with a final moment of weakening strength, he pulled Edgar to him and wrapped an arm around him. He leaned close for a sleepy kiss. Edgar welcomed him, letting his brother lazily brush his tongue against his lower lip before pulling away.

Alan laid back against the pillow and let out a heavy sigh. Edgar let his heavy eyelids sink closed. But he didn't drift off quite yet.

"I love you, Bro." came the exhausted murmur.

Edgar opened his eyes, and looked up at Alan through the dark. His brother's eyes were closed and his body was still with slow, gentle breathing. He wondered briefly if Alan had fallen asleep. "Alan?"

His heart rose a bit in his chest when his brother opened his eyes and replied, "Hm?"

Edgar licked his lips and then said, "I love you too."

Alan smiled, and closed his eyes again, holding Edgar closer against him, pulling his brother's knee over his thigh. He let out a long sigh in the dark silence. A moment later he asked, "Edgar?" He opened his glanced down at his lightly snoring brother. He smiled again, shaking his head, laying it back against the pillow. His consciousness slipped away and he followed after his brother down into sleep and chased him through the Boardwalk in his dreams.

* * *

"Jesus Christ, Alan! What the hell is that on your neck?" Sam yelped from where he stood, leaned against the counter.

Edgar glanced over his shoulder from where he stood, stacking a new box of old, used comics that still had potential value of being sold.

Alan touched the place where Twisted Sister had bitten him. After Max had exploded in the Emerson fireplace, all of the wounds that the bloodsuckers had inflicted upon them had just about faded away like a bad dream. So what the hell was Sammy talking about? Hell, Alan was surprised that Sammy was even on the Boardwalk the day after the near vampire apocalypse had destroyed his life as he knew it.

"No. Lower." Sam said, leaning over the counter. "Is that what I think it is?"

Alan brushed his fingers over a bite mark, tinged with red, the flesh around it a little shadowy.

"It is. How the hell did you get a hickey?" Sam cried, shoving Alan with envy. "C'mon man! It's been maybe ten hours since you left my house last night!"

Alan smirked, lowering his hand from the bite. "Hell, Sammy, I'm just that good when it comes to girls."

"You work in a comic book store…"

"Hey, I'm devilishly handsome and I'm a fucking _god_ in the sack! An animal! What can I say?" Alan chuckled. Then he leaned closely to Sam, "Oh, and just to rub garlic in the wounds, I'll tell you right now, that this girl was a fucking raging-hot _animal_ herself last night."

Edgar heard Sam chuckle boyishly, trying to prod more details out of Alan. He smiled to himself. Only he, himself, and whoever or whatever put the power behind the holy water when it melted a vampire down to liquid bones knew that his teeth would perfectly fit the red bite marks in the side of his brother's neck. So he let Alan give praise to this imaginary girl as he continued to silently stack comic books…all the while knowing exactly who Alan was actually talking about. And he couldn't wait for the next chapter of the story Alan was obscurely relaying to Sammy to be written, in his bedroom, all over his lips, and within his body.

_Can hardly wait in fact. _Edgar smirked, glancing over his shoulder at his brother who caught his eye and smirked back.

Sam looked over at him, "Edgar, is all of this true? Or is he just bull-shittin' me?"

Edgar smirked and replied huskily with a chuckle, "Every word."


End file.
